The Rise of the Pride of England
by Mononoke-hime x sukai kurora
Summary: A young girl named Alice Kirkland was abandoned as a baby by England. At eleven years old, she is mailed a Hogwarts letter as Voldermort rises to power. A mysterious wizard known as Arthur Kirkland appears to teach History of Magic at Hogwarts, but why is he truly there? Is there truly there to protect only Harry Potter, or is something else at stake? What is his relation to Alice?
1. Prolouge

_Prologue_

England carried the bundle with a heavy heart. He felt the soft material against his chest and he could feel the warmth from the bundle that he held. His emerald green eyes were solemn and dark as he felt the soft breathing of the infant across his chest. England caught himself before he looked at the child. He couldn't. If he did, he couldn't allow himself to let her go. England was aware of the quiet sobs behind him. France was crushed. His characteristics of being a Frenchman – flirtation, rose-obsessed, and speaking in his bloody language all the time – were now nonexistent as the taller nation continued to sob. _He hurts…as I do._ England forced himself to not look at France. It would be too painful. Instead, England looked at the child in his arms, allowing him to succumb to his desires.

Her blond hair was hidden from the blanket wrapped around her. England had noted that she was small for a child, noting of how small she was compared to the infants he had seen. The blanket was white complete with a red cross. England allowed himself a small smile, remembering France's reaction at the sight of the blanket when he had started knitting it, so long ago it seemed. Then his smile faltered. She would not be with them anymore. England began to look at the neighborhood around him. The set of houses were placed apart, and neither were alike. England could see the neatly trimmed grass and noted the multiple walkways and the flowers protruding from the ground. It took only him a moment to know which house.

The house was small. It was white and the roof was black. It was dark inside the windows. What caused England to turn was the fact that opposed to a flower bed or a fountain, there were two rose bushes, both bearing the majestic national flower. England smiled, noting of the dark beautiful red color. _Only good English would have care for rose bushes._ He turned and started walking to the door with France walking hurriedly behind him.

 _"Angleterre!"_ he hissed. _"Angleterre!"_ England didn't answer him. The island nation was about to lower the child onto the doorstep when he felt France's tight grip on his left forearm.

England didn't move as France started to speak, his voice heavy with regret. "Are you sure you're ready to do this… _mon amour_?" England didn't look up at the sound of the endearment France had started giving him years before.

"I have to." England's voice was calm and collected. "It's the only way to keep her safe."

France swallowed. England could almost imagine his hands white and shaking.

"But… _Angleterre_ …what if –"

"She could be targeted." England hissed. He fought to keep his voice controlled and not betray the heartbreak he was feeling. "She could be killed for the simple reason that she lives." He clutched the child to his chest. "I will not let that happen." England felt his heavy breathing echo through the night. He felt France's hand take his own for a moment, softly caressing the child's hair before pulling away. England crouched to the ground, softly lying the infant on the doormat, careful not to wake her. He stared at the child, forcing himself to look at her one last time before his hands gripped an old pocket watch. Carved in the pocket watch were the initials A.K. Slowly, he lowered the pocket watch into the child's blankets. She appeared to move, clutching the pocket watch in her hands.

"Goodbye," England stated with a heavy breath. The child didn't hear him. "Goodbye…Alice."

Her turned away and walked with France under the shadow of the clouds.


	2. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_

A girl with short blond hair awoke from a dream. Her emerald eyes, glassy with sleep, vaguely looked up at the ceiling as she tried to recall what she had dreamed about. She only remembered being in a sea of grass, a ribbon in her hair. She had fingered it self-consciously, for as far as she could remember, she had her hair short for her entire life. For a brief moment, she stared at the sky. Light blue without a cloud in the sky. The sun was above her head, shining brightly. Then she thought she saw someone. A man wearing a dark green uniform, walking determinedly ahead as the grass parted from him, his blond hair slightly waving in the wind. The young girl tried to call out to him, but for some reason her voice was silent. Then he started to turn and that was all the girl remembered.

The girl named Alice Kirkland sat up in her bed. She ran her fingers through her hair, thumbing through the knots that had become tangled the night before. Her emerald eyes blinked, now taking in the sights that she saw every morning. A giant bookshelf located itself in the corner of her room. Alice stared at the spines, allowing the familiar sights to wake her up as she did every morning. _The Legend of King Arthur…The Battle of Britain…The History of English Royalty…_ Across the room were multiple other items. Alice smiled at the sight of the stuffed lion sitting loyally across from the castle she had made out of Legos yesterday.

"Hello, Edmund." Alice crooned as she jumped out of bed and caressed the stuffed lion's cheek. She squeezed the stuffed animal, rubbing it against her cheek. Although she would never admit it, Alice still cuddled with her stuffed lion that she had gotten before she was a year old. Though she had stopped seriously talking to Edmund since she was six years old, the stuffed lion was a reassuring presence, especially during a bad day. Alice frowned at the memory of her – former friend telling the entire classroom that she still slept with the stuffed lion despite being ten years old. Which was _not_ true…mostly. Alice had ended up being laughed at by the entire primary school for an entire week before everyone had stopped paying attention to her.

She was often ignored in school. Not that she minded. Although her mother often stated that she was an odd duck for being so interested in the history of England, Alice couldn't understand her reasoning. Did it truly matter that she was the most excited during St. George's Day in her house and wore a United Kingdom shirt, to the mockery to her class? Did it truly matter that Alice's favorite women in the world were Eleanor of Aquitaine, Elizabeth I, and Jeanne d'Arc, and not her mother? Apparently her mother minded, and Alice was forced to listen to her father tell her all the reasons why her mother was better "than two old hags and one delusional teen girl," in his words. Alice frowned, looking at the United Kingdom flag tacked on her wall. _Am I…really that bad?_

She thought about the things she enjoyed. Reading, of course. She also loved roses. Her father had bandaged her hands many times as a younger child for touching the thorns and not the flower. It was her job during the spring and summer to trim the roses, something she was happy to do and proud of. Alice loved it especially when the roses' petals bloomed, their petals such a dark red.

Alice eyed the pocket watch sitting beside her books. According to her father, he had bought it three years ago in an antique store. _"You seem to really enjoy old things, Alice, so I bought it for you."_ The eight year old girl had embraced her father, never seeing the guilt in his eyes as she held the pocket watch, spell bound. _It must be very old,_ Alice had thought to herself that night as she stared at the watch's face. It had Roman numerals with the numbers one through twelve. There was a chain, gold and in very good condition, although Alice never wore it around her neck. She had been shocked to find initials carved into the metal, clean and straight as if done by a master. What was more, the initials were the same as her own name. She had showed her mother and father, who appeared as shocked as she did at that moment when her father suddenly smiled and turned to her.

 _"Maybe you share the same name as the mate who made this, Alice. If so, that's a good think it was left in your hands."_

The pocket watch had never stopped working, despite spending infinite time in the dusty store and on her bookshelf. Sometimes she fell asleep listening to the sound of the watch ticking. It was almost like the lullaby the girl heard in her head.

"Alice!" The girl jumped at the sound of her mum's voice. It sounded like she was calling down from the stairs. "Breakfast is ready!"

"Coming, Mum!" Alice put down Edmund and raced to the bottom of the stairs. Today was a special day.

It was the day that Alice turned eleven years old. Alice walked more slowly into the kitchen. The smell of scones and freshly cooked pancakes and bacon wafted through the air, and Alice sat down in the chair across from her father. At the sound of her sitting down, her father put down the newspaper he was reading and grinned at her.

"Happy birthday, Alice."

Alice gave him a small smile.

"Thanks, Dad." Alice watched fondly as her father started to read his newspaper again. Brain Kirkland was a fourth grade teacher at the elementary school across from town. Many people like the brunette, saying that he was kind and sociable. Wire-rimmed glasses framed his face, and Alice wondered for the first time of how she managed to have two parents who needed glasses and not having them herself. Her mother appeared, her light brown hair slightly wavy as she leaned down to give her daughter and husband a couple pieces of bacon and scones. The pancakes soon followed, complete with tea and milk for Alice.

"So. How was your morning?" Alice's mother, Emma Kirkland, asked as she watched her daughter use her knife to cut her pancakes.

"It was good." Alice stared at her mother's slight blue frames and her hazel eyes. She wondered whether she should mention the dream she had, thinking about the strange man for a moment, and decided not to.

"I can't believe my baby girl is already eleven years old," Alice's father said as Alice started to blush and her mother rolled her eyes. "Soon she'll be graduating from a university with a degree in history –"

"I'm not that old yet, Dad." Alice mumbled to her feet. Sometimes her father had a habit of speaking in such a way that Alice thought he was talking to her past self and not her present one. "Besides, I don't feel eleven. It almost feels like a normal day."

Her father smiled. "I know. You feel as if every day is a normal day unless it's St. George's Day." This time both her father and mother laughed at Alice's unamused expression. The young girl was about to reply with a retort when she suddenly thought she heard the mail being dropped.

"I'll be right back," she said as she exited the kitchen. She continued to hear her parents' whispers and chuckles as she went to the drop box. Alice picked up the mail, scanning the first letter. It was a letter from her grandmother she noted, with her name neatly printed across the heading. Alice smiled, tucking in the letter beneath her arm. The next couple of letters were for her parents. One about an electricity bill and another about taxes. Alice was about to leave when there suddenly was a _whoosh_ and another letter collided onto the floor. Alice stared at the letter strangely. It appeared heavier than the other letters, and it had strange script written on the front. She took it in her hands and peered at it. Her curiosity increased at the sight of her name and her address on the envelope.

 _Miss Alice Kirkland_

 _The Smallest Bedroom_

 _St. Olive Street_

 _Stonehedge County_

She overturned the letter to find a red seal. Below the red seal was an image of a lion with gold and red, a raven with blue and light brown, a badger with yellow and black, and a snake with green and silver. All of the animal were surrounded by the letter H. Alice suck in a shuddering breath. She had no idea who had sent this letter, or why it was addressed to her. How did they know her name, or that she where she lived in the house? Slowly, she eased a thin piece of paper out of the envelope.

 _Dear Miss Kirkland,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins 1 September. We await your owl no later than 31 July._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

Alice felt the letter slide out of her hands. She felt a strange nervousness course inside her as she stared at letter at her feet. _What is going on?_ Her emerald eyes continued to widen as she hesitantly picked up the letter again. She blinked, but the letter appeared to be the same. It said the same words. Her mind started to turn. _School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…_ She touched the paper again, surprised on how heavy it felt in her palms. _Wizard…like the legendary Merlin?_ She stared at the envelop in her hands, staring at the animals surrounding the one alphabet letter.

It was only later when Alice's mother called her name did the girl realize what situation she was in.

 _Bloody hell…what do I do?_

* * *

 _This is my first time writing a Harry Potter/Hetalia crossover, so please tell me what I need to work on. I also have not read the Harry books or been in the fandom for eight years, so please forgive me if I make some mistakes regarding the spells and whatnot._


	3. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

"Alice?" Alice sighed at the sound of her mother's voice and walked back to where she came. The blond haired girl felt the heavy envelope with the letter in her hand, wondering again what she was supposed to do. As she was about to walk into the kitchen however, Alice stilled. Would her parents believe her? Her father was likely to politely listen and nod his head patiently, but her mother would likely dismiss it as rubbish. She wasn't a physics professor at Cambridge for anything. Alice was about to continue forward when there was a sudden knock on the door.

"I'll get it," she stated as her mother prepared to move to open the door. Alice wondered what kind of person would knock on the door this early in the morning as she pulled the door open. Alice had expected someone that she knew, perhaps the librarian across the street giving her a book for her birthday. A tall woman wearing dark green robes – about a shade lighter than what the strange man in her dream wore – that came down to her feet. A pointed hat the same color of her robe lied on her head, and Alice could only see a few strands of her brown hair. Her eyes were illuminated by her half-moon glasses. _I wonder if this is how Mum looks when she is giving a bad grade,_ Alice thought as she observed the woman's slightly stern expression.

"My name is Professor McGonagall, and the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." The woman's voice was sharp and yielded no room for comment. "Are you Miss Alice Kirkland?" she asked more slowly.

"Y-yes," Alice whispered. She recognized the name of the person speaking to her, and continued to stare in disbelief and confusion. Suddenly she was aware of how rude she must have been and stated quietly, "Hullo, madam."

A brief but warm smile suddenly broke into Professor McGonagall's face. "You are very polite for a Muggle-born, Miss Kirkland."

"A what?" Before Professor McGonagall could respond, Alice felt her father's hand tightly against her shoulder.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Alice flinched at the sound of her mother's tone of voice. She only cursed when she was angry or agitated, and she could see her father look at Professor McGonagall in distrust. The deputy headmistress – if that is who she was – didn't respond to their reactions and instead spoke to Alice.

"You received a letter this morning on the seventh of July stating that you are to be enrolled in school starting this term on the first of September." Alice glanced at the envelop she had in her hand, and was surprised to find the woman appear pensive. "You are a very strange case, Miss Kirkland. Normally when witches and wizards are born, including muggle-borns as well, are registered in a document and their names are scripted on the document until the day the die." Her gaze now shifted to Alice's mother and father. "Mr. and Mrs. Kirkland, your daughter was not listed in the registry. I was very surprised to find a letter from Gringotts stating that Miss Kirkland was not yet given a letter despite a huge sum of money waiting for her in one of the banks. Therefore, she is to be enrolled in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She is a witch."

Alice's parents stared in stunned silence as Professor McGonagall fell silent. Alice continued to stare curiously at the professor, her emerald eyes widening with every word.

"Are you a witch too?" Professor McGonagall appeared surprised by Alice's question, as if she expected a different one.

"I am. Most Muggle-borns usually ask if this is truly real before asking if I can perform magic."

"What is a Muggle-born?" Alice asked. "And…if this is truly real, how can you perform magic?"

"A Muggle-born is a witch or a wizard who is born to two non-magical parents. There are many Muggle-borns in the wizarding world, and most of them reside in the magical world after their schooling is complete."

Alice frowned. _So…I'm a Muggle-born, like she said. But why would they want to live in a world of magic far away from their family? Their parents must miss them._

Before Alice could speak however, her mother interrupted the conversation hotly.

"How do we know if this is true and this not a lie?" Her hazel eyes narrowed at the sight of the witch. "What proof do you have that magic is real?"

"Very well." Before anyone could react, the witch in dark emerald robes pointed something thin and long in the direction of the television across from them. It transformed into a small white rabbit.

"Oh my…" Alice's mother whispered. Her daughter stared at the tiny white rabbit. Its fur looked fluffy and soft to the touch. Doe-like black eyes stared nervously in the human's direction. Alice turned and spoke to Professor McGonagall in amazement.

"Can you truly do that?"

"That and more," the witch replied briskly. "You will also be able do to similar actions if you go to Hogwarts during the seven years you are there."

"How long is Alice going to be at this…school?" Alice's father spoke, and Professor McGonagall shortly nodded to him.

"Miss Kirkland will be gone from September first to the beginning of the winter holidays, if she wishes. There is a train at King's Cross Station that will arrive in Muggle London, and you will able to find her there. Then there is a summer break, starting in June and ending until the next year begins, which will be on September first." Alice's mother and father were slowly nodding. However, Professor McGonagall's expression slightly shifted when she saw the disappointed look across Alice's face.

"Does that mean I cannot go to my school anymore?" The expression Professor McGonagall showed her told her the answer. "Ms. Engle told us last year that we were going to learn about the War of the Roses." Professor McGonagall had an unreadable expression on her face, thinking she had never hear such a statement from any Muggle-born during her time teaching at Hogwarts. The witch didn't know exactly why she had decided to come to the Muggle countryside and explain magic and the world awaiting this young girl. This was her first time taking up such a strange matter. However, perhaps it had nothing to do with the child's inquisitive nature, but her name. Professor McGonagall remembered the name Kirkland from somewhere, but could not remember. _A great wizard, perhaps?_

"You are a very strange witch, Miss Kirkland," was all she stated.

* * *

 _"You are a very strange witch, Miss Kirkland."_ The words echoed in her mind as Alice now pushed her cart onto the King's Cross station. The sentence had been stated twice. Once by Professor McGonagall and the other by the wandmaker known as Ollivander. Alice slightly dug into her pocket to finger her wand, which was purchased the same day as her birthday now almost two months ago. Alice had been stunned by the sights of this new world when she and her parents went to Diagon Alley. It almost appeared as if she was in the past. People wearing robes as long as they were and old stores with dust covering the shelves.

The shopping was easy to do, as many of the witches and wizards were very kind and helpful. Alice had scowled when the one of the witches selling school robes had slightly laughed, as Alice had gotten the smallest robes should could find. _I'm already small enough,_ she thought as she continued to observe to steam come out of the red train. _These robs will probably swallow me._ Alice had said goodbye to her parents, hugging them before she ran in between the platforms between nine and ten. She had paled when Professor McGonagall had told them how she was going to enter the train, but the witch assured her that it was safe. Alice now thought of the professor now, remembering her goodbye. She had simply said good luck to her, but there something in her eyes when Alice had smiled when the professor told her that she was teaching at Hogwarts.

Alice thought back to her wand. It had taken her a long time to find one, longer than most, Ollivander had said with a shake to his head. Something surged inside Alice when she was given her wand. There was warmth around her limbs, almost too hot and the feel of salt around her tongue. Ollivander had stared at her wand and stated it was very strange. _"My family has been making wands from the very beginning, Miss Kirkland. I have seen such a wand as this – thirteen and one third inches, holly with a golden brown color with a phoenix feather as its core – except for a time long past. This is the very same wand as a wand my ancestor made, when Hogwarts was first built a millennia ago."_ Ollivander had replied with a quiet no when Alice asked when if he remembered the name of the person who had the wand.

" _I do not, Miss Kirkland. However, I expect great things from you. It does not often happen that two wands are brothers."_ Alice sighed again and briefly looked back at the station. She wouldn't see her parents again until December. _That's a long time away,_ Alice thought as she started boarding the train. _I hope they'll be okay without me._ Alice had not yet found a compartment yet. The young witches and wizards were already in groups of twos or fours, and Alice had yet to meet anyone who would welcome her. She was almost at the end of the train now. Although Alice could see at least one figure sitting in the compartment across from where she stood, she did not enjoy the prospect of going back and looking back at the full compartments.

"May I sit here?" Her voice was high and uncertain as she stared into the two seats. They were both occupied, with two dark brown haired girls sitting in the seats. One was staring at the window, apparently uninterested in Alice's question. The other didn't look at her but waved her hand forward. Alice observed them carefully. Both had dark brown hair and gray eyes. The one staring at the sky was wearing her Hogwarts uniform, the green and silver of her tie appearing to shine in light sun. She appeared to be older than the young witch Alice was sitting across from. She was wearing plain robes of dark red. As Alice continued to look at them, the taller girl suddenly asked,

"What's your name, kid?"

Alice looked surprised at the question, almost expecting the train ride to be silent, but she felt the other girl looked at her curiously.

"Alice Kirkland." The blond haired girl paused. "What's yours?"

The girl suddenly turned and this time Alice could see her face. A thin pace with sharp cheekbones and a small nose. The other girl looked close enough to her to be her younger sister. "Arya Eymr of Slytherin House." Seeing Alice's blank look, she continued. "This is my younger sister Evangeline Eymr. She expects to be sorted into Slytherin House as well."

"Sorted?" Alice repeated duly. Sudden Arya's face broke into a smirk.

"Good. That means you haven't heard the bullshit yet." Alice started. "Listen, kid." The witch named Arya looked straight into her eyes. "I know you're a Muggle-born, so don't you dare lie to me. There are four houses that every first year has to go through. There's Huffelpuff, Ravenclaw, Gryfindor, and Slytherin."

"So that's what the animals stood for?" Alice blurted. For a moment there was silence. Then, Arya began to laugh. It sounded as if it came deep from her chest, and soon Evangeline was laughing as well. Alice shyly glanced away, a blush ordaining her cheeks.

"Yes. The animals," Arya stated with a small chuckle. "The houses are divided and a first year is sorted into the house he or she would be suited best. For example, the Ravenclaw is for the smart and those who desire knowledge. The Huffelpuff is for the kind and the diligent, and Gryfindor is for the brave and heroes," she stated slightly sarcastically. Alice looked at her in surprise, wondering now why both girls were frowning.

"What traits does Slytherin have?"

Alice waited. There wasn't an answer for a moment.

"The Slytherin is for the cunning and the dark," Arya steadily stated. She wouldn't look at Alice. "Most of us are considered negatively because of the legacy of our house." Her voice quieted. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and most of his followers were in Slytherin." At Alice's blank expression, the young witch rolled her eyes and laughed. "You don't know anything, do you?" The dark-haired girl didn't wait for a reply. "Because of the two wizarding wars in the past, Slytherin has been dominated by prejudice and darkness. Malfoy and his bloody croons aren't helping." Arya pointed a finger at Alice. "I'm telling this to you because my little sister knows it. Slytherin…it used to be a noble house. It had greatness, and I believe it still does. Before, many people wanted to get into Slytherin house. It was Merlin's House, the advisor of the great king and one of the most amazing wizards.

"But…because of the nonsense of blood purity and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Slytherin has been thought by most people as House where everyone who goes there is evil and will come to nothing but that goddam wizard's _dog_!" Arya punched the seat harshly, deep anger emerging from her voice. Alice watched her with wide eyes and the younger Evangeline watched as well. "It's part of the fault of that git Malfoy and his cronies that this happens in this time. I planned to change that, but nothing has come of it."

Alice almost wanted to embrace her Arya was shaking so hard. _So…that's Slytherin._ It saddened Alice that the actions of the few dictated the fate of their successors. As Arya calmed down, the older girl started to explain who this He-Must-Not-Be-Named was and of the war that occurred less than ten years ago. She told her about Harry Potter, the boy in her year who defeated the wizard who tried to kill him when he was an infant. _"He may be somewhat prejudiced…but he's a good wizard,"_ Arya had acknowledged with grudging respect. It was a couple of hours after Alice had first boarded the train. Alice stared at the two sisters in amazement, watching the two converse quietly as she observed them. Arya was more like fire, the blond-hair noted. In the very brief time she had known her, Alice noted that the fifth year had a quick temper and a sharp tongue. But she was patient. Evangeline didn't say very much, but she observed the conversation with her gray eyes and her voice was cool. She was also kind in her own way, allowing Alice to sit with both of them despite the possibility that they might have preferred to be alone.

"I hope I'm in Slytherin," Alice suddenly said. Arya looked up in shock and was narrowed her eyes at Alice.

"You would die in there, kid." Alice frowned, not liking at all that she was not called by her name by Arya. "Slytherin is a place for the cunning and the ambitious. And," she added as she looked straight into Alice's eyes, "You don't look like a person who can do bad things."

Alice thought. "Does that mean you can do bad things, Arya?" the blond haired girl asked quietly. The older witch didn't answer.


	4. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

England had a pounding headache. Not only was America talking loudly, the entire room was starting to spin. He leaned his head slightly, attempting to not close his eyes as another sharp pain went through his skull. His emerald eyes could see France looking at him in concern, and England almost wanted to smile at his expression before there was a sudden violent pain in his chest. England coughed, feeling the familiar liquid seep from his mouth and stood, breathing unsteadily as another bout of pain surged through him.

"Hey, Iggy! Are you –" America didn't get to finish his sentence as England bolted from the room. England felt the blood fall down his chin, hoping that he would make it. _Please,_ he thought as another attack suddenly plagued him as he attempted to breathe.

The blood splattered against the sink as England hovered of it, breathing through his nose as another attack left him helpless as he coughed up another splatter of blood. England gasped, feeling the blood on his teeth as he breathed through his mouth. The nation noted with disgust that he was trembling.

"I've gotten weak," he muttered to himself. A snarl appeared against his lips.

"They've just gotten stronger, _mon amour_." England sighed in pretend exasperation as a smile found its way across his lips as France reassuringly clasped his hand on his shoulder. The blue eyes that England knew so well glinted in worry. "What will you do?"

"I can't do nothing this time," England vowed as his voice rasped. "I don't care what my boss says. They forbade me from getting involved in the last wars, and I won't allow them to do it again." France nodded even as his expression became grim. England laughed humorlessly. "They kept me going to work, even as I was vomiting blood and couldn't hold my food down. You had to take care of me for weeks when Voldemort was first defeated. "'It's a magical affair, and doesn't concern us,'" England mocked as France softly moved his handkerchief over his mouth and face. The island nation stilled as France peered at him with grief in his eyes.

"Your house still isn't doing well," the French nation tried to protest. England scoffed, but caressed France's skin on his cheek all the same.

"My brothers and I are just fighting again," England whispered. Inwardly, his heart clenched when agony of watching the fields run red, again. "It's not my fault that Ireland and North are at each other's throats," he lied tightly. "Scotland will be happy not to see me for a while and have something else to do but drink." The two nations were silent for a moment.

"You know what this means," France murmured into his lover's ear.

"I do." Normally not one for public displays of affection – even when alone in a bathroom – England allowed France to hold him against his chest. "I will apply for a Hogwarts position starting in the afternoon." England slightly calmed as the Frenchman stroked his hair with his fingers. "You don't have to worry about me," he sighed. "I learned most spells from the git Ancient Rome himself, and nonverbal spells I can do as well."

"It's not that," France whispered into England's hair. "She is coming to Hogwarts this year, correct?" England didn't reply, but France could see the sadness – and longing – in his eyes.

"I will be to Hogwarts to not only protect my people, but to protect her as well." Silently, England gave France a tender kiss on the lips. "I will not let anything happen to her as I still live, France."

France's expression became somber as he stared into the emerald eyes he loved. Slowly, he nodded, even though a sob was reaching his lips.

* * *

"O-oi!" Arya suddenly stated as a blush ran across her cheeks after a brief silence had fallen over them from the blond girl's question. "Don't call me so informally," she stated more quietly as Alice stared at the teenage Slytherin's self-conscious expression. "I'm still your senior, and you should treat elders with respect! Besides..."

"So…I should call you Emyr then?" Emyr nodded, her expression calming once more as the situation was resolved. Alice waited for a moment before asking, "Does that mean you can call me by my name too?" The emerald-eyed girl was surprised to find a slight smirk on Emyr's face.

"Not yet, kid." Alice slightly frowned as she heard a slight chuckle escape from Emyr's lips. "You have yet to prove yourself."

 _Prove myself?_ Alice thought as she watched the older girl fall silent and the younger one continuing to look at her hands. _Prove myself…to what?_ Suddenly the Slytherin stood and took out her trunk. It was made out of ivory, and had beautifully branches with lilies, and Alice could see an identical one that Evangeline had as she too began to open her trunk from under her.

"What's going on?" Alice caught a look between the two sisters.

"We're almost at Hogwarts." The eleven year old girl looked away at the sound of rustling clothes. "You need to change." When Alice didn't move, the teenage girl almost gave a sigh of exasperation "We're all girls, you git. Everyone here has seen what everyone else has." There was a slight pause. "Besides, you haven't developed yet, right?" Alice felt her face grow warm and shook her head, missing the rare kind smile the older Slytherin girl had on her face. "Come on. We don't have all day."

"Are all of you Muggles so modest?" Alice glanced at the dark-haired girl beside her, noting of how her voice was different from her sister's, and yet they also had similarities. The aloofness and guarded look, Alice noted. The young Evangeline appeared more open than she had been during the entire train ride. The girl appeared to feel comfortable in her robes, while as Alice slightly tripped on them as they walked to where the gameskeeper was calling them.

"Well…" Alice felt self-conscious again as she felt Evangeline's gray eyes on her own. "Not really. I'm just…not used to being around people that much." Seeing the blond haired girl's pinkish expression, the other girl fell silent. It was true of what Alice had stated. Alice, for most of her childhood, had read books and had not had many friends, and as such, was self-conscious around other people.

She was also aware she was small and thin, more of a body of an eight year old than a child three years older. The Muggle-born had gasped with a few others of the castle before them as they rode boats across the lake. It was beautiful, made of stone and brick, and Alice wondered how old it was as her emerald eyes became larger as they came closer. She thought of the wand hidden in her trunk, remembering Ollivander's reaction to her wand. _Could the owner of that wand have come here, many centuries ago?_ Alice swallowed as the boats slowed to a stop, realizing too late that she had been looking too closely at Hogwarts itself to enjoy the feeling of seeing the lake's dark waters. The groundskeeper, with close-cropped dark hair and a prominent chin, banged on the door. Almost immediately, the door opened to reveal the tall figure of Professor McGonagall.

Alice almost gasped in surprise and a smile warmed her face at the sight of the witch who had introduced her to the magical world. If McGonagall recognized the young girl she had met two months earlier among the first years, she gave no sign. She gave a quick thank you the unnamed witch, and ushered the first years to follow through the doors.

There were two golden doors leading to a room that was bombarded with noise and warmth. Alice felt Evangeline roll her eyes as the sounds seemed to grow louder with each growing minute. Fire burned inside many of the torches, illuminating the faint lines on Professor McGonagall's face. "Welcome to Hogwarts." Professor McGonagall's voice echoed throughout the halls. "You will be placed in four Houses shortly during the ceremony, which are Huffelpuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Slytherin. Each House will become your family, and at the end of each year, the House with the most points will be awarded the House cup." There was a pause, and Professor McGonagall continued. "Any mischief making will result in losing points, and the accomplishments you make or honors you have will add points. Come with me." The door opened, and Professor McGonagall began to lead the first years into a hall with four long tables.

It was a stunning sight. The candles were in floating in the sky as stars blinked above them, shining their beauty. Alice wondered how anyone could have thought stars as annoying with their bright light. There were people staring and looking at the first years, so many that Alice felt her eyes blur when she tried to look at them. She stared at the banners instead. The table on most left bore a lion, reminding Alice of the stuffed lion she had left at home, although it was much more magnificent and royal than Edmund could be. Its colors of red and gold shone through her eyes as Alice stared at the other banners. There was a banner bearing a raven with blue surrounding it. A black and white badger with yellow and black, fierce and yet also looking gentle. On the far right was a silver snake, the pink tongue slightly between its mouth, looking almost frightening with the green color. Alice wondered how Emyr was doing and wondered where she was. Alice was about to turn and ask Evangeline where her sister was when she suddenly felt a sudden gaze on her. She looked up. There was a man sitting in the seats higher above than the other tables, his expression unreadable as first noticed his attire. As opposed to wizard's robes, he wore Muggle clothing. The suit was a dark brown and he wore a red tie. _How odd…at least in here,_ Alice thought. His eyes suddenly met hers for a moment, and Alice noted briefly that he had blond hair and green emerald eyes before she almost stumbled into the person in front of her.

A stool was in the center of the hall and a ratted pointed hat lied upon it. Alice stared at the faded black cloth, wondering if this was the sorting hat.

"When I call your name, I will place this hat on your head and you will sorted into your Houses." Alice listened as each name was called and the House of whoever obtained a new member applauded. She noted however that with each name, some of the Houses remained silent when the hat shouted Slytherin, particularly Gryfindor. _So that's how it is,_ Alice thought as she stared at the back of a young light brown haired boy who had been sorted in Slytherin without an applause besides for his Housemates. She glanced at Evangeline's glowering expression. _Maybe I could convince her to not be in that House, because –_

"Evangeline Emyr!" Alice almost jumped at the sound of Evangeline's name, and managed to whisper "Good luck" to her before she sat on the stool. Her dark hair disappeared from view as the young girl had the hat on her head. Her expression did not held a hint of fear.

"SLYTHERIN!" The hat immediately announced, and Alice clapped along with the others, noting that an old wizard with long white hair and the one wearing Muggle clothing were among those who clapped as well. As Alice thought of the dark haired girl she came to know as a friend, her thoughts were interrupted by her own name being called.

"Alice Kirkland!" The blond hair girl did not see the deep interest of the Muggle-clothed wizard, except for perhaps the old wizard in magnificent robes, for the audience was curious about the first year who had clapped when the Evangeline Emyr had been sorted. Alice walked up to the stool, feeling slightly breathless and nervous as the hat was placed over her head. She was so small the hat covered her eyes.

Then there was a voice.

 _Interesting…very interesting._ Alice listened at the hat's slightly raspy voice. _I see loyalty and cleverness in you. A love of books? Perhaps Ravenclaw…_ The hat paused. _No. There is…something greater in there. Something I have not seen in centuries, since that boy._

Alice's eyes winded. _You mean the…wizard who had the same wand as me?_

 _You know about your relation, I see._ The hat seemed vaguely impressed. _I should put you in the same House as him, I know…but there is something different about what you are._ The hat paused, his silence stilling Alice's heart. _I know what you are,_ he stated, with such conviction that Alice almost trembled. _You are…_

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The table on the left cheered. Alice hastily ran from the stool, feeling nothing but pure joy as she sat down in the seat nearest to her as her new Housemates cheered. The blond-haired girl didn't notice the mysterious wizard smiling and clapping quietly.

"Hi." Alice turned to find an older boy sitting beside her. He held out his hand, and Alice noted he had messy black hair and a lightning-bolt scar on his forehead and glasses. "Welcome to Gryffindor."

"The best House there is," another student said beside him. He had bright red hair and freckles. The girl sitting across from him scowled.

"Honestly, Ronald. There is no such thing as the best House," the girl said. As she continued to reprimand him, Alice observed she had long bushy brain hair and brown eyes. "I appreciate what you did back there," the teen suddenly said to Alice as the young girl began to stare at the faces surrounding her before looking back at her. "Not many people welcome new Slytherins."

"Maybe she's a Muggle-born." The wizard named Ronald shrugged and steadied his hungry gaze at the empty plate. "She must not know what Slytherins actually are."

Before the girl across from her could reply, Alice replied more calm than she thought she was possible of. "The girl who was sorted is my friend, and her sister, who is a fifth year, welcomed me into their compartment." She was aware of the shocked eyes of the redhead and the surprised gaze of the other boy, and the relieved look of the other member of the apparent trio.

"My name is Hermione Granger, and this prat over here is Ronald Weasley. And this over here is Harry Potter." The bushy haired girl, named Hermione, gestured to her friends. Alice applied with a handshake.

"My name is Alice Kirkland," she stated, noticing of the shocked look on Harry Potter's face when she had no reaction to his name. _I had no idea what he looked like,_ Alice thought as she continued to observe him, noting he had similar emerald eyes to her own.

Before either of them could speak, the wizard wearing the magnificent robes stood. As he began to speak, Alice audibly wondered who he was.

"Blimely, you must be a Muggle-born if you don't know who Albus Dumbledore is! He's the headmaster here at Hogwarts! He's only the greatest wizard of the century, and is strong enough to defeat You-Know-Who himself!" As Ronald and Harry nodded in agreement, Alice could not help but to see the wizard Albus Dumbledore speak with such elegance and calmly manner. Her eyes strayed, following the mysterious emerald-eyed wizard.

"Professor Binns has decided to take a long-needed vacation –" Here there was tremendous applause, including from Harry and Ronald and almost the entirety of the hall. Even some of the professors gave a small smile. "Although he will be missed, the position will be filled by Professor Arthur Kirkland!" Alice straightened at the sound of the wizard's name as whispers started to immediately follow, Hermione immediately glancing back at a shocked Alice from the physical similarities between the young professor and Alice.

"I'm surprised someone so young could be a professor," Ronald added as Professor Arthur Kirkland sat down again. "He looks almost as young as some of the other students." Suddenly a frown shadowed his expression. "Look at those eyebrows though."

Alice looked. The young professor did have thick eyebrows, almost twice their size. They almost looked like caterpillars even, but Alice wasn't looking at them specifically. He seemed curious, and Alice was about to look at him more closely when there was a sudden cough.

Alice stared and watched as a woman with a face of a toad began to speak, her high and childish way of speaking making many – the eleven year old girl included – grit their teeth. Alice noted as the witch named Dolores Umbridge spoke, the professors did not appear to be happy what was going on. Professor McGonagall's eyebrows had disappeared, and even the newcomer Professor Arthur Kirkland was frowning. At the end, no one spoke. Alice stared at her feet and wondered, bewildered about the Ministry of Magic and what this professor was going to teach. _Severely lacking?_ Alice almost laughed at such a ludicrous statement. _If the education is severely lacking, why has this place still been teaching since practically the beginning of our country?_ Alice didn't voice her thoughts out loud, although from the way the trio she had just must were looking at each other, they were having similar thoughts. Alice continued to glance periodically at the staff table, noting of how Professor Kirkland and Professor McGonagall were now in conversation. Alice softly smiled into the hunk of chicken that she was eating. _Somehow, I already get the feeling that I'll like him._

Alice stared at the cloth of her four-poster bed, her eyes heavy and her mind sleepy. _How my life has bloody changed,_ she thought. She thought about the floating candles to the toad-like woman who had talked about the Ministry of Magic. _I never thought…such things would exist._ Alice had her new Gryffindor robes folded in order to go to her classes tomorrow, draped over her bed as she was about to sleep. Her heavy-lidded eyes glanced at the pocket watch she had in her hands. The time said that it was near eleven o'clock at night. As the eleven year old girl's eyes finally closed, she did not notice that the pocket watch was still ticking even as she slept.

Despite being a Muggle technology that wouldn't work in Hogwarts.

* * *

England sat across his bed, his mind still working despite of the late night. His thoughts were on the young girl who had been a baby when he seen her last, clutching the pocket watch in her hand. The young girl was now as small as he had been when he was her age, with the same hair and emerald eyes. England smirked slightly, knowing at once what France would say. His smile faded as he thought of his citizens that he had met today. Minerva McGonagall was a good woman, England noted with respect, and he easily found it comfortable to talk with her. She reminded England of who he had been to America and his other colonies centuries ago. Stern but cared very deeply about her students. He found the other professors to be likable people as well, although Dolores Umbridge and Serveus Snape appeared to be disagreeable in his opinion.

England thought again of the small girl with so much life in her eyes. _What will you think…if you know the truth?_


	5. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

Alice woke up as the sun was shining in the window. The blond haired girl stretched, blinking open her eyes as her Hogwarts uniform landed in a heap on the ground. It was strange. Alice was used to finding the spines of her books to wake her up out of her sleep, but now there was no such thing. Alice got up and bent down to get her uniform. _This will takes some time to get used to,_ she thought somewhat morosely as she stared at the sun. _I wish I could have taken some of my books with me._

Her bunkmate had already left, the blankets strewn and messy with the pillow almost half off the bed. Alice grimaced. _She could at least make it presentable,_ the first year thought as she dressed in her robes. For a moment Alice simply stood there, looking at the red and gold tie that was around her neck. _I'm really here, aren't I?_ Taking a couple of her textbooks in hand and pocketing her wand, Alice went down the stairs to the Great Hall, forgetting that the pocket watch was on top of her pillow, still ticking away.

"How was your morning?" Hermione Granger was sipping her pumpkin juice as she nibbled on a piece of toast. Underneath her was a newspaper with moving pictures. At first Alice didn't respond, thinking that she was talking to her two male friends. "Alice?"

Alice looked up, realizing too late that a dot a jam was smeared against her cheek as she was about to take another bite of her toast. Hermione wasn't exactly looking at her, reading the newspaper, but she seemed to be listening for Alice's response. She looked over and saw that Harry Potter was scraping his scrambled eggs, glowering into his food as Ronald Weasley was eating a stuffed plate with sausages and various meats. He was currently stuffing his face with two pieces of toast.

"It was good," Alice replied as she nervously looked over at Hermione. She had thought perhaps that they wouldn't talk to her again after the night before, but the three – or at least Hermione, greeted her with a quiet good morning. "Did something happen?" Alice whispered to the older girl as Harry continued to glare at his breakfast. Hermione nodded, folding the newspaper in half and explained to Alice what had happened. A row had broken out between Harry and another mate in the year, calling him a liar.

"It's a lie, and everyone knows I'm telling the truth," Harry growled sullenly after Hermione explained. He gripped his fork so hard his knuckles started to turn white as Alice stared at him in concern. "Why don't they bloody believe me?"

"Because Harry, people have been reading the _Daily Prophet_ all summer before the truth could come out," Hermione said shortly as she stared at her glowering friend. "Now will you stop biting my head off?"

Harry fell silent for a moment. "Do _you_ believe me?" There was a solemn look on his face, and Alice could almost feel the desperation in his eyes. Dark bangs were underneath his eyes.

Hermione stiffened. She appeared to take the question the wrong way. "Doesn't the answer seem obvious?" she slightly whispered without looking at Harry.

"Hermione, I meant –" Hermione wouldn't reply, and Harry started to stare at his plate with more disappointment than sadness. Ronald stared curiously at them, chewing slightly as he attempted to find words to calm both of his friends down. Before he could say anything however, the hall became dominated by birds.

 _Not birds,_ Alice thought with wonder as she saw the numerous wings of gold, black, brown and white gliding in the air. _Owls._ She had been told by Emyr that owls were the way wizards and witches stayed connected with each other. When she had asked of the wizards and witches of other countries – particularly Asia kept in contact with one another, Alice was met with an exasperated look. _I guess I said something stupid again,_ she had thought to herself during the train ride. The small girl gave an audible gasp when a beautiful snow-white owl started flying in Harry's direction. Harry raised his hand so the snow-white owl landed gracefully on his shoulder.

"This is Hedwig," Harry said as he noticed Alice's awed expression. A smile appeared on his face as he unwrapped the small piece of parchment on his owl's right leg. "She's been with me since first year." He gave her a fond stroke and Hedwig hooted in agreement. "Don't you have an owl?" he asked as the messy-haired boy continued to observe Alice's awed expression.

"I do," Alice said breathlessly. She looked at the hall and wondered where he was. "Yours is just – Pendragon!" Alice yelled as a familiar streak of white and faded orange came into view. The owl landed on her shoulder, the claws slightly digging into Alice's flesh, but the blond-haired girl didn't seem to notice.

"You already seem attached to your owl," Harry said in amusement as Alice continued to beam at the owl on her shoulder.

Alice nodded, a slight embarrassed expression on her face as she rubbed Pendragon's feathers. The owl was white, similar to Hedwig, but had a splotches of faded orange almost like leaves and smaller than the female owl. Her father had chuckled at the choice of his name, but seemed happy as he glanced at his daughter's joyful expression. Alice had asked Evangeline if she had an owl, but the Slytherin girl shook her head and smirked at Alice's dismayed expression. _"Arya has an owl. So I don't need one."_ She had a small fluffy white kitten instead, and from the soft grin on her face as she talked about the very young cat, Alice thought that the fellow first year was attached to her animal.

"Why did you name your owl Pendragon?" Ronald asked as a very small owl perched on his shoulder. "It sounds like an old name of some kind."

"Honesty, Ronald." Hermione sighed and shook her head as she stared at her red haired friend. "Have you not heard of the king and wizard Arthur Pendragon?" She was met with a blank look. "He went to school here, and was the only apprentice of Merlin."

"I had no idea King Arthur was a wizard _and_ a king!" Alice whispered breathlessly as she thought of the legendary king. Her parents had always told her legends of the famous king, and the English legend was her favorite among all others. "That means he was real…" she sighed. "I thought about naming my owl Arthur too, but I had a rabbit named Arthur and he died when I was seven, and the full name seemed a long name for an owl so…" She suddenly heard Ronald choking on his pumpkin juice and laughing as the juice ran down his face.

"You're so weird!" Alice stared as the redhead continued to laugh with the pumpkin continuing to drip onto his half-eaten meal. "You seem really into this bloke Arthur Pendragon and more obsessed about books than Hermione, I think!" There was a smile on his face. Alice found her face growing hot, and she continued to stare bashfully as the person continued to laugh. "You're a strange girl, but I think –" Suddenly his voice faltered at the sight of tears slowly falling down on the young girl's face.

"You're the first one who said that to me and didn't make fun of me because of my…quirkiness." Alice now looked at the fifth year with a newfound respect. "Thank you, Ronald."

A knowing look appeared in the trio's eyes, and then Hermione started to laugh at Ronald's blushing face.

"It's Ron," he whispered uncomfortably. The blond-haired girl started to smile.

* * *

"Today we are going to start by turning a piece of hay into a needle." Professor McGonagall stood in front of the room and was stern as she stared at her students. The Slytherins and Gryffindors classmates were together in the room, and Alice was able to give Evangeline a small wave before sitting down next to her partner. Alice glanced at the piece of hay before her, wondering how she was going to manage turning a piece of hay into a hard inanimate object. "You have the entire class period to do this. Now start." Alice took out her wand, the feel of it still foreign to her as she held it. The point of the want was aimed at the center of the straw of hay. _I have to at least try,_ she thought.

Alice stated the spell, and blinked.

Perhaps something was wrong with her eyesight, but she thought she saw a needle instead of a straw of hay. She looked again. _It's still there._ Alice looked around the room, wondering if the others were having an easy time with it as she was. They were not, as she noted. Several of her classmates were still stating the spell with no change. Others had a gray-looking piece of hay, and other pairs were close to getting the spell right. But none of them had gotten it perfectly right, or on their first try like Alice.

Alice stared at the needle, and fingered her wand. _How is this so easy for me?_ Her mind started to wander. _I wonder what the spell literally means. It seems to be in Latin, for sure, but why do use this word and not another?_ She frowned, further thinking. _Is there no magical theory in Hogwarts? I would thin_ k –

"Miss Kirkland." Alice snapped out of her thoughts and gulped nervously at the sight of Professor McGonagall staring at her through her glasses. The witch peered down at the needle, her eyes slightly widening. "When did you complete this, Miss Kirkland?"

"A c-couple of minutes ago, Professor McGonagall," Alice stuttered as the professor's lips faded into a thin line. A pensive look appeared on her face. Abruptly she pointed her wand at the needle and the needle turned back into a piece of hay. "Demonstrate for me, Miss Kirkland."

Alice complied, and almost expected the hay to stay still from the professor's unrelenting gaze. The girl was shocked when the straw of hay transformed into a needle again. Professor McGonagall didn't say a word at the girl's confused expression, but Alice noted of how she appeared to be watching her as the first years departed to their next class. The same happened in Charms, and Alice did reasonably well in Herbology, although Alice made a note to cut her nails once she was in the common room.

"It was beginner's luck," Evangeline stated as she almost glowered at her blond-haired friend. They were heading down the dungeons together to arrive in the next class Potions.

"You're just angry that you couldn't transfigure the hay into a needle and got showered with dirt," Alice said as the taller girl glared at her. Alice slightly smiled as the girl's expression became more morose. She was happy to have this girl as her friend. "I'm certain Professor Snape will favor you since you're in Slytherin," Alice stated as she remembered Hermione's warning to not get on Professor Snape's bad side because she was in.

"Maybe," Evangeline grumbled. She opened the door and allowed Alice to move ahead. "I'll save you if you need help," she added with a smirk as she sat down next to the group of Slytherins. Alice's only reply was a nod.

A tall man with greasy dark black hair stood in the center of the room. His eyes were as dark as his hair, and he softly glowered at the students congesting his classroom. His voice echoed in the room.

"Welcome, students. Slytherins." He nodded to the students wearing green and silver. He ignored Alice and the other students in Gryffindor. "If you are smart enough to complete this class at the end of the year, you will know much knowledge." He tapped his wand to the board and letters depicting the direction appeared. "My name is Professor Snape, and you will do well to follow these directions or risk my wrath," he hissed. "Now complete this simple potion."

Alice read the directions, and was pleasantly surprised to find that the directions were similar to cooking. Smiling to herself, Alice started to cut her roots in a slim manner, feeling comfortable with the rhythm. She thought of her mother who taught her how to cut the basil leaves just right, and remembered the fond look on her face as a younger Alice gasped in delight at the sight of her mother's homemade fish and chips. Thinking of the bright physics professor, the first year started to hum softly as she started to pour in the ingredients.

"You." There was a sudden hiss, and Alice looked up in alarm at Professor Snape's annoyed expression. "What do you think you're doing?"

Alice's mouth suddenly felt slick. She could feel everyone's gaze on the two of them, and forced herself to look at the professor's unkind expression as she looked at him.

"It's just that this reminds me so much of home that I started to hum. I thought of my mum, sir."

Alice's face paled at the sight of the sudden sneer that appeared on his face.

"You are not _home_ , Kirkland." The stung of his tone almost made Alice cower. "Your mother is not here. This is Hogwarts, not a place to do whatever you please." He looked contemptibly at the blond-haired girl's potion. "Five points from Gryffindor."

"But sir –" Alice protested.

"Ten points." The girl quieted. The sneer on Professor Snape's face disappeared when a voice suddenly echoed in the room.

"Sir." It was Evangeline. "Winters was humming under his breath as well." Alice could see the blue-eyed boy open his mouth to speak, a flabbergasted expression on his face before Evangeline kicked him hard in the knee to keep him quiet. Professor Snape frowned.

"Winters, keep your terrible voice to yourself." The boy named Brendan Winters blushed and snarled at Evangeline's smirking face as the entire room laughed at his expense. "Now hurry," Professor Snape barked. "I want to at least see one adequate potion from one of you."

"Thanks," Alice stated breathlessly as she walked beside Evangeline as the girls walked together from Professor Snape's classroom. A familiar smirk echoed across Evangeline's face.

"You think I was going to let that git torment you?" Evangeline shook her head, her dark brown hair slightly falling into her eyes. "Fat chance."

"Thanks, Evangeline." Gratitude glowed inside the small blond haired girl. "I really –"

"Oi!" Alice and Evangeline turned to find a tall and slim boy glaring at the two of them. Alice recognized him as the boy Evangeline had stated hummed under his breath. His ice-blue eyes stared at Evangeline harshly. "I'll get back to you," he vowed as he suddenly ran past them, laughter following the young Slytherin.

"I think you just made an enemy, Evangeline." Alice murmured as the laughter echoed in her ears. Evangeline looked at her friend and shrugged.

"It was bound to happen sometime."

* * *

"Good afternoon, class."

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge." The class murmured under their breath. Alice silently glared at her desk, the slim book smooth against her hands. For once Alice felt unnerved as she stared at the book. _Harry grumbled about something this morning about Professor Umbridge,_ Alice thought as the toad-like woman began to explain how Defense Against the Dark Arts was being taught. _Textbooks have a purpose, but shouldn't we be learning spells as well?_

"Open your page to 113."

Alice raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss…?"

"My name is Alice Kirkland, and I was wondering if we would be learning any spells or defense methods this year?" The witch giggled, the sound causing Alice to tighten her grip on the book in her hands.

"Miss Kirkland, you must have not heard me when I stated we would only be learning theory." She pointed her short wand to the board. "Now perhaps it is because you are a Muggle-born and do not know how to listen, but I am only going to tell you one more time." Her ugly face distorted. "Turn to page 113." Alice didn't move.

"Is there something wrong with being a Muggle-born, Professor Umbridge?" A strange anger surged through her, anger that ran through her veins as Professor Umbridge shook her head and spoke to her like a child.

"No, Miss Kirkland. It is only that –"

"Voldermort is back, and even the youngest students need to prepare for it, Professor Umbridge." Alice almost recoiled from the fact that she had interrupted a professor, but it disappeared with anger in its place when Professor Umbridge gave her a sickening smile.

"That is a lie, Miss Kirkland." The toad-like woman frowned. "And do not say that name in the classroom. You upset the students." Alice could see some of the students shaking at the sound of Voldermort's name. She had seen it before when Hermione and Ron had flinched when Harry had said his name, and the blond-haired girl thought of what the headmaster had told a younger Harry, and had approved of his decision

"The only thing to fear is fear itself," Alice recited as Professor Umbridge looked at her in shock. "That is what the American president Roosevelt said, and I think – "

Umbridge scoffed. "A Muggle. And that land you're talking about is covered with unseemly country bumpbkins who don't know a horse from a pig."

Alice's emerald eyes glinted in rage. She stood, almost tipping the chair over. "America is a strong country! Stronger than England is right now, and the war would have been lost without their help!" Alice didn't know why she felt such rage at the mention of the country across the Atlantic, but it burned deep inside her, as if it had been hidden for a very long time. "To think –"

"Detention, Miss Kirkland." Alice's rage withered and her face paled. The toad was smirking.

"But I –"

"Double detention." Alice gaped at the smirking witch. "Talk again and you will serve detention with me for more than two weeks." Her eyes narrowed. _"Now sit down."_

Alice sat. Her heart was racing, not from anger or adrenaline, but fear. _I've never gotten in trouble before. This is my first day too! Mum will be so disappointed in me._ Her eyes lowered at the open page, her eyes slightly blurring. _God damn it._

And she still had History of Magic left.

* * *

England was preparing for his next class when he felt the room around him begin the change. He clutched his head and hissed, the pain running through his head. Why was he angry? Why did he feel so…disgusted? It was almost like… England's emerald eyes widened at the realization before he heard a raging voice.

 _"America is a strong country! Stronger than England is right now, and the war would have been lost without their help!"_ England felt his hands grip the book, feeling the smooth cover. He felt small, smaller than he had felt than he had in centuries, and a familiar flame of anger surged through his body. _"To think –"_ It faded to black, and England found himself leaning against the chalkboard, his lessons for the day slightly blurred and the chalk against his jacket. England gathered his bearings and sighed. He knew whose mind he had connected to just now, and almost wanted to scream at what had just occurred. _So it's begun already,_ England thought with a rueful smile at the memory of the blond haired girl with emerald eyes. _We're already…_ England brought his hand to his face in an attempt to calm down. _And her class is next, isn't it?_ An ironic bout of laughter escaped from his throat. _Bollocks, I have the worst of luck._


	6. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

"My name is Professor Kirkland, and I will be teaching you History of Magic." Professor Arthur Kirkland was now wearing a robe, which was dark blue and hung loosely around his shoulders. Alice observed he didn't have his wand in his hand.

"Now." He stared briefly at his students, allowing his eyes to glance more closely at Alice. "You will be disregarding the books that you have with you." There was a slight cheer in the air, and Alice thought he saw a small smile on his face before it disappeared. "We will be learning not magic history from the beginning, but first…can anyone tell me why Muggle history is important?"

No one raised their hand. Even among her fellow Muggle-borns, who had been nervous and frightened during their first lesson, had no apparent answer. Alice raised her hand.

"Yes, Kirkland?" For some reason Alice felt calm in his presence. She heard the other students whisper to each other, possibly about them sharing the same last name, but paid no heed to them.

"If Muggles didn't exist, then witches and wizards would be dead a long time ago." There was a collective gasp and several students started shouting. Professor Kirkland raised his hand to call silence.

"Miss Kirkland is quite right." His voice was quiet and stern as he looked at the students. "Muggle history is as important as your history – perhaps even more important, because if Muggles hadn't been around, then wizards and witches would have died in the multiple wars we've had." There were indignant snorts from some, and Professor Kirkland didn't react. _He must have heard such reactions before,_ Alice thought. "If England hadn't fought in World War II, then the witches and wizards would have simply been another victim of the Holocaust. And if the Spanish Armada had succeeded in invading England, then perhaps the multiple wizards and witches you know today wouldn't have existed because the Spanish slaughtered them all like they did to their own in the fifteenth century." Professor Kirkland's stern expression turned pleased as a couple of students appeared pensive. "Although, I do believe that telling the entire history of our nation is too dense, so I will begin explaining about the two world wars, which began in 1914 and 1939 respectively."

* * *

"Kirkland." Alice looked up and could see Professor Kirkland shifting through his lessons as the last of his students filtered through the door. "May I see you for a moment?"

"Yes." Alice carefully walked over to his desk, careful not to touch anything of value and held her book against her chest. "What is it, Professor?"

Professor Kirkland appeared to think for a moment. "You seem remarkably interested in the subject I am teaching, Miss Kirkland." His emerald eyes met her own. "Do you like history, by any chance?"

"I love history," Alice stated with a wide smile. "I…well…" she stated, somewhat self-conscious now under his gaze, "I love the history of England so much that I wear a United Kingdom shirt every year on St. George's Day." She turned pink, almost expecting the wizard to ask questions or look at her weirdly like so many others, but he laughed. Alice was surprised to find herself liking how his laughter sounded. For a moment, his age and demeanor disappeared, appearing very much like the young man he was.

"That is good." His laughter faded, although it was still in his eyes. "I do not meet many…people who have any knowledge or liking to history in these times." For a moment, a wistful expression appeared on his face before his expression became neutral again. "I will see you next class, Miss Kirkland." Alice was almost disappointed by the abrupt end to the conversation, but exited the room all the same. She glanced at the blond haired professor as she closed the door behind her.

Classes had ended at four thirty, and Alice realized that her detention had started. _Crap,_ she thought as she started to run across the halls. _I hope I won't be too late!_ It took her about five minutes to reach Umbridge's office, and the small first year opened the door. Inside the office were pictures of kittens. Alice would have immediately crooned at the sight, having a soft spot for cute things, but somehow it seemed almost wrong that such a hideously pink room with kittens was Umbridge's office. Suddenly Alice paused when she stared at the other person in the room.

"Alice?" Harry looked shocked, and his eyes widened at the sight of the first year. "Why are you here? Surely you couldn't have –"

"She is here for precisely the same reason you are here, Mr. Potter." Umbridge purred, and set one of her long nails on one of the seats. "Now sit down, Miss Kirkland."

The first thing Alice noticed was that only parchment and a black quill was one the desk. Harry had one too, and he stared at it disbelievingly.

"There's no ink," he stated. Umbridge smiled.

"There doesn't need to be. Now write." Her sharp nails clacked together. "Now Mr. Potter, I want you to write, " _'I must not tell lies'."_ Do you understand?" Harry nodded. Her gaze directed at Alice. "Now, Miss Kirkland, I want you to write, " _'Traitor.'"_ Do you understand?" Alice slowly nodded, and Umbridge smiled.

"Now begin."

Alice and Harry started writing. At first both of them were confused when, as they wrote, the ink didn't show on the pages. Suddenly Harry gave a gasp. Alice looked over in his direction and paled. On the right of Harry's arm were the words Umbridge had wanted him to write, the red words in his arm. Dark blood continued to leak from the wound, the liquid soaking into the carpet below as it bled.

"Don't stop now," Umbridge stated as she continued to smile. She motioned for Alice. "Show me yours." Alice didn't move. Her eyes widened at the sight of the witch in front of her, feeling a cold fear in her limbs. _What is she?_ Alice wondered as she wordlessly moved her hand over to her side. The word _traitor_ bled red as the new wound shed its blood as Alice, her face white with pain and fear, stared at Umbridge. "You don't have it as worse as Mr. Potter," came the witch's soft voice as Alice's wound suddenly healed. Alice gasped and looked at Harry. His wound had healed as well. His hands were trembling with growing rage. "That should be something to be thankful for, don't you think?" Alice almost dropped the quill when Umbridge's face neared her own. "Don't you think, _traitor_?" Alice could only nod, her breath in her throat. "Continue. You have nine more lines to do."

Sharp and searing pain was the only reality Alice had as she carved the word into her own arm. She bit back the gasps of pain emerging from her throat as blood continued to leak from her wound, intense and burning even after the wound had healed. Alice looked across from Harry, his face pale and slightly unfocused as he wrote the letters.

"Please." Umbridge stopped smiling, and turned her toad head towards Alice. "Stop this. Harry isn't doing well." Her voice was weak and faintly trembled. "At l-least make me w-write more lines…so he doesn't have to be alone with that." Umbridge smiled, and Harry's expression turned to horror at the sight of the toad smiling down at the blond-haired girl.

"I will take the offer," she stated sweetly. Alice gulped, suddenly wondering if she had just made a grievous mistake. "'Next time, perhaps."

Harry almost shouted. "But Professor –!"

"Do you want more lines?" Harry stilled. "Come now," Umbridge said with a shake of her head. "Only one more line left." Alice looked at Harry, his expression still grim as he started to write again. Alice followed suit.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Harry almost yelled as they exited the office. Both were cradling their arms in their hands. Alice hoped that no one who was coming by could see the cuffs of their robes stained with blood.

"I thought it would help you," Alice breathlessly whispered. Her limbs felt like they were made out of lead. The blood loss had made her tired, and she slightly stumbled as she and Harry warily made it back to the Gryffindor common room. Harry let out a laugh. It was almost not heard, and it was filled with humorless irony.

"Help me? I've been in more life and death situations to count, and you're trying to help me?" His angry eyes fell on her and Alice gulped, slightly backing away. Then the fifth year sighed. "Look. It's better if you worry about yourself than me." A somber expression shadowed over his face. "It can save your life."

"What do you mean?" Harry didn't answer her. They both were near the common room now, standing in front of the steps leading to it.

"Someone important to me lost their life trying to protect me," Harry whispered. "Last year, when I was helpless." He gritted his teeth, and Alice noted of the raw pain on his face. "I don't want that to happen to you," he stated to the blond-haired girl.

Their emerald eyes met. "Umbridge is going to give us detention for two more weeks. Thirteen days of this bloody mess." Harry's robe fluttered, and Alice could see the wound scabbing before she looked away. "Don't tell anyone this." His expression was almost afraid.

Alice nodded.

The first year was unable to fall asleep quickly that night despite having just finished a pile of homework despite her arm. She looked outside and stared at the moon and looked down at the pocket watch in her hands. For the first time in many years, the blond girl with emerald eyes fell asleep listening to the lullaby of the clock. It was only then that the wound healed, as if it hadn't been there in the first place.


	7. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6_

"Alice." Alice looked up from the blank parchment she was staring at and looked at Hermione, who was looking at her in concern. "Are you okay?" The blond haired girl could feel Harry's gaze on her.

"I'm fine, Hermione." Alice forced herself to smile. "I'm just tired, is all." Hermione looked at her for a moment, as if disbelieving her, and then nodded and went back to her homework. Alice sighed inwardly and stared at the empty piece of paper. She _was_ tired. Very tired. Dark shadows had appeared under her eyes, and Alice was cursing herself for her weakness. Since the detention began, Alice's blood had continued to leak every night starting at four-thirty. She had noted a change in herself. Alice no longer thought about reading once her assignments were finished. She simply wanted to go to sleep.

Her professors were starting to note her change in demeanor as well. Professor Snape had subtracted thirty points from her House when she had allowed her potion to go up in flames, and Professor McGonagall was more often than not chiding her for sleeping in class. Evangeline was constantly narrowing her eyes in Alice's direction, and her older sister simply replied that she "looked like shit." The only one who attempted to heal her pain was Professor Kirkland. He gave her a cup of china tea and taught her the spell how to fill the cup with tea that would make her feel better, he stated with a concerned look in her direction. But no matter how many warm and soothing cups of tea Alice had, the pain still remained. The images were in her head. For some reason Alice felt different when writing the single word traitor. It wasn't just fatigue or fear. It was…darkness. Alice felt terrible when she felt the blood on her arms leak against her skin, feeling cold and despair wash over her.

The worst was when her dreams were invaded by nightmares. The images came fast and were blurry. Alice couldn't remember anything, only noting of how a scream was at her throat and tears were trailing down her cheeks as she woke in the morning. Images of fire and blood and severed limbs echoed her mind. A mass grave filled with corpses, their bodies bloated and sweet-smelling with flied hovering over them. A field of rain. Someone crying.

Alice always found tears in her eyes when she awoke from her dreams, and forced herself to get up every morning despite simply wanting to do nothing.

* * *

"Something's wrong with her," Hermione whispered as Alice left the Great Hall. Harry and his friends had stayed behind, watching the first year's stiff movements as they gradually came into the History of Magic classroom. It was the third class they had in the morning. "She's not herself."

"I'll say," Ron added as Harry listened in tense silence. "She doesn't eat much breakfast, and she hardly ate anything when we first met her."

"That's only because something would be wrong with _you_ if you didn't everything in sight," Hermione said somewhat crossly as she began to think further. "Come to think of it, Alice has been acting distant since her detentions began with Umbridge." The bushy haired girl looked at Harry. "Detention did end last night, right Harry? Did something happen there?" Harry attempted not to flinch.

"Err…I'm not –"

"So you do know something, Potter." Harry glared at the Slytherin standing in front of their desk. Harry didn't exactly know her, as he had never heard her speak but had seen her afar and knew she her marks rivaled Hermione's. Her gray eyes almost glared at Harry. "Tell me what you know about this kid, and why she's acting so bloody strange."

"Why do you care?" Ron scoffed.

Almost immediately, the Slytherin – Harry now remembered that her name was Arya Emyr – stared at Ron as if he was lower than dirt. Ron lowered his eyes.

"She's my friend, you stupid arse," she snarled. Ron flinched at her hard expression. "Some of us aren't bigoted gits like you, and she has been avoiding me, and my sister says she acts like she's in a trance half of the time." Her glare focused on Harry. "Now tell me. What happened?"

Harry knew there was no time to lie. The fellow fifth year would know in an instant. "Umbridge has us making us write lines," he said as his voice quieted and slightly faltered at the memory of the quill digging into his skin, making the page run red. By the end of the first week, both Alice and Harry had been kept longer and longer. The blood often made a small puddle at the end of every session. A faint scar, white and raised, was on his hand as a permanent reminder of what he had endured. "Not the lines that I told you about," Harry added at Ron's confused expression. "It's…" The messy-haired boy bit his lip. "There's no ink at all. There's a parchment, and she makes…Alice and I write lines with our own blood." Horror and shock filled Hermione's and Ron's faces as the dark-haired girl's face became made out of stone. "The lines…are etched in the parchment, and the words are carved into our arms." Sighing deeply with his heart in his throat, Harry pulled up his robe and showed them the scar. "That's mine," he said bitterly to three gray faces before him. Harry suddenly felt a punch to his shoulder.

"What the hell was that for?" he whispered hotly.

"What the hell was that for?" The female Slytherin mocked his voice. "What was that for? For being a dumbass! Don't you know that's dark magic?"

Harry frowned. "I thought so too, but thought you would be on her side, actually."

The Slytherin's mouth gaped open, and purple started to appear on her face. Before she could reply, however, Hermione intervened.

"What about Alice? Did you ever think what it would ever do to her?" she whispered. Harry nodded.

"I kind of…thought it didn't do any harm to her at first, honestly," Harry confessed as Hermione and Ron gaped at him in shock as the other fifth year frowned. "One thing I noticed was that her arms completely healed the next time of our new detention. Mine scabbed over and never quite healed." Harry frowned. "That was until I noticed how her mood changed."

Hermione stared at him, her expression hard and pensive. "Are you sure that's what you saw?" she asked slowly. Harry nodded. "That's very odd. Her wounds healed immediately overnight. I've never heard of that. It's not even physically possible to do that, not even with magic," Hermione stated as the three listened. "Unless…something isn't hu –"

"Potter. Weasley. Granger. Emyr." Harry looked over slowly to see Professor Kirkland standing across from them. His face was outwardly calm, but Harry noted of the irritation in his eyes. His back was stiff, and he spoke quite calmly to them despite the slight hiss in his voice. "Come meet with me after class." The professor's steps echoed in the room, and Harry was aware of the burning glare the Slytherin girl was giving him as she walked away. Harry found it hard to pay attention to the lesson. Professor Kirkland's lessons were surprisingly fascinating to him, with detail about the ancient magical worlds of Ancient Greece and Egypt as he connected them with Muggle history. _Who knew Muggle weapons could be so dangerous?_ Harry remembered as Ron paled beside him Professor Kirkland had told them about the poisonous gases used in a war fought by Muggles. _World War I, was it?_ Professor Kirkland was now talking about the middle stages of the war, but Harry could not listen to him today. His thoughts were on the young girl who shared the same name as the professor, her emerald eyes heavy with pain as he half-carried her and half supported her to the common room the night before. _Where has the girl who used to talk about dragons and her owl gone?_

"Mr. Potter, I do believe you were talking about something during class." Professor Kirkland stated as he adjusted his hands behind his back as he stood in front of the four fifth years. "What was that very important subject?"

"I…well…" _Should I tell him?_ Harry wasn't sure. "We were worried about a first year in our House, Professor." Harry said, deciding to tell the young professor half the truth. "She's been moody and tired lately, and we were thinking up ways to help her feel better." To his relief, the professor seemed to believe him, and he nodded slowly.

"I have seen her behavior as of late, Mr. Potter, and I have too come to the conclusion that something in not right with Miss Kirkland. Thank you for telling me." There was a sudden smile on Professor Kirkland's face, and Harry stared at the pure gratitude seeping from his eyes. "I will talk to her after class." His previous expression returned, worry suddenly shadowing his expression. "Now go, I am certain you have classes to go to."

"Why did you lie?" Hermione whispered as they headed to their next class.

"I wasn't certain what to say," Harry said as Ron walked along beside him. "He does truly seem to care about Alice though."

"Maybe it's the name," Ron suggested. His dark-haired friend shook his head. _No…something deeper than that,_ he thought. For some reason the look on Professor Kirkland's face made him think of Sirius, his godfather.

* * *

England attempted to speak to the young girl, but she didn't answer any of his questions. After class, he had called her over to his desk and asked her if she would like to have tea with him. The girl nodded, and England noted with growing worry of the child's face. Pale with shadows under her eyes. The tea had no effect on the young Gryffindor. Despite the tea enchanted with a charm to grant gentle and soothing dreams, the nation had become alarmed when the girl asked if he had any frightening dreams lately. The girl wouldn't allow him to see her face, but he could almost hear the fear in her tone. Her expression had changed rapidly when England had asked her about the detention she had for the past couple of weeks. Her grip on the tea cup suddenly increased, and her hands shook as she attempted to look into England's emerald eyes calmly.

"I have another detention tonight," she told him. The child would not tell him why despite his gentle questioning. When she had attempted to stand without saying goodbye, England called to her.

"Don't go to detention tonight, Alice." England almost whispered her name, sounding almost like a beloved caress, and the girl stared at him with shock and a faint blush at the sound of her given name coming from his lips. "I will talk with Umbridge," he promised. Silently, the girl nodded, and he watched her as she left the room, a forbidden feeling washing over him.

* * *

As England stared at the blank ceiling, he thought about the faces of those who faced fear without flinching. He had met many people such as those, including enemies, dying with a smile on their faces. _Jeanne d'Arc…_ Although more than four hundred years had passed since her death, England still remembered the expression on her face as she burned. Peaceful and praying to god. England had respected her, respected her as he would one day respect the queen who ruled his nation and married him, but still…

 _The expression on the girl's face…should never belong on a child._ England was no fool. He knew of the numerous children who were abused and neglected in his country, and it pained him that he could not soothe their pain. As he attempted with Alice.

 _Alice…_ The country thought as he rolled over on his side. _You are more important to me than you know. I know I did not expect to find you here. I had hoped…_ The nation shied away from such thoughts. _Even though I know it is selfish, I am happy that I can at least protect you. At least, as soon as I get that bloody excuse of a citizen what the bloody hell is going on!_ He thought of the girl who was whispered to be able to master first year spells with ease. With the thought of the blond haired child with emerald eyes, England slept.

England gasped, clutching his hand near his heart. Perspiration gathered at his forehead, and he breathed heavily as he attempted to gain his breathing back to a normal rate. _I've…_ His teeth gritted in pain as the memories of the nightmare surfaced. _I've seen this before._ Burning buildings, crushed rubble, people bleeding and dying and feeling every death as people screamed. England's eyes widened, remembering of what could cause this. _Alice!_ England ran from his sleeping quarters and began to run, not noting of his bare feet starting to bleed as he started to run to the Gryffindor tower. He could hear the screams not even before he reached the entrance to the common room, the high screams making his blood boil.

"Open the door!" England barked at the Fat Lady as the screams continued to rise. His expression became more frantic as the screams became a howl and loud voices echoed. "Open the door!"

The Fat Lady's eyes widened and she slightly shook at England's enraged expression, his hand slightly titled upwards. "Open the _bloody_ door, so help me –!"

The Fat Lady didn't have to hear twice. England raced through the opening, pushing aside a group of girls concerned and waiting by the stairway as screams continued to echo through the walls. Murmuring a silent spell, England ran up the steps, his breath catching when he saw a tall Head Girl try to restrain the screaming and flailing Alice. England could see a pair of brown eyes look at him and shock, and briefly recognized Granger as he moved towards the lower bed.

"Move!" he half-snarled at the human, and her hazel eyes widened as she moved away. England Alice's sleepwear to see her chest. He cursed at the sight.

The words _traitor_ were carved in multiple places, the blood oozing and the cuts deep as England stared at the words against the girl's shoulders and the back of her neck. _The mark of an old dark magic,_ England thought as he frowned darkly. _I would know. I…created it._ A dark magic to make a person carve words into their flesh, although it had opposite effect for nations. _Ghastly and terrible memories…memories that we would rather forget…is what we see, even if our wounds heal._ As the girl continued to scream, England released the grip on her shirt and released he was almost panting with rage, shaking with his lips almost bleeding from his teeth. _And eventually…if there is too much stress on the body, the words written become located everywhere on the body._ England hoisted up the small girl in his arms, her head against his chest as her screams faded into his right hand sleeve.

"Professor, what are you –?" One of the girls half-yelled.

"Get out of my way," England whispered darkly. His face was enraged at the feel of the trembling and screaming child in his arms. Hearing the danger in his voice, the Gryffindor girls parted. Although they were sorted into the House of the brave, the Gryffindor girls were not brave enough to risk the wrath of their nation. England began to run down the stairs and exited the tower, Alice's screams quieting as he continued to hold her tight against his chest.

Fury burned inside of England as he thought about the dark magic used against the child in his arms.

" _Je vais_ _te tuer_ _…_ _salope._ _"_

England did not realize that he said the words in French.


	8. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7_

England could feel Alice calm against his chest. She was now breathing softly, and now longer fought in his arms. Rage still surged through the nation as he thought of what had been done to her. Even now as the girl in his arms slept dreamless, England could acutely feel the pain in her arm as if it was his own. _She's already…_ The former empire bit his lip. The horrors she must have seen. _Too soon,_ he thought as her breath eased softly against his sleepwear. _It was much too soon for her._ Although England felt the same burning rage at the thought of that hag, as he steadily ran to his office, he realized the anger was more directed at himself. _I was the one who created such a weapon._ Familiar self-loathing oozed through his veins. _When I was an empire…surrounded my many enemies. Including France._ The door opened with a simple nonverbal spell, and England carefully carried the small first year to his bed.

The room was mostly bare, with only a desk and a chair by the bed with neatly stacked piles of parchment with an empty ink bottle and a quill. England stared at the girl for a moment, the grief disappearing for an instant as the quiet calm and determination of the wizard Arthur Kirkland reappeared. _It is a shame that the spells of the ancients have become lost to history and to the old nations who remember it,_ England thought as he slowly started to utter the spell. _The spells know known to modern wizards and witches were created by myself and derived from Latin and Greek._ The poison from the dark art steadily seeped from the Alice Kirkland's body and were destroyed with a flick of the Englishman's hand. _Before, all wizards and witches didn't have to have wands to perform their magic. However, since the persecution of wizards and witches a millennia ago, many people forgot of to use their magic without a tool._ England breathed the last syllable of the spell with a sigh, the air around him becoming calm again from the lack of the highly concentrated magic. _The only ones who remember are France and I, and Prussia as well._ England eased the palm of his hand on Alice's chest and shoulder, her skin smooth and not ravaged by scars or blood. _Good._ The girl's expression was peaceful, and her chest rose and fell deeply and calmly. England slightly moved his hand to caress her hair, noting of how the blond hair framed her forehead, but stopped at the last moment. His hand stilled, inches from her face.

 _It is ironic that I created that weapon, and did not use it._ During the centuries he was at sea, England had fought hand-to-hand combat with most of the European nations, using swords or even magic sometimes during their battles. Even during the most heated moments, when England had a gruesome wound in his stomach or had suffered a defeat with Spain or Prussia smirking above him, the English nation had not used the other nation's weakness against them and make them relive their darkest moments in history. _It was too late that I realized the tool was something to be destroyed, and now in the present time, it was used…_ England's expression darkened, his knuckles whitening as rage streamed inside him at thought of the toad-like woman smirking with her tone sweet as his – as an innocent child bled for doing something which was right. _I have to do something,_ England thought as he lifted Alice in his arms and tucked her into his bed, observing her small face for a moment before exiting the room.

England could hear Dolores Umbridge humming as she silently sipped her tea as she stared at the moving pictures of kittens surrounding her sleeping courters. A smile became larger and larger on her face as her sausage-like fingers touched the dark quills in her hand. Almost like a caress one would give a child.

"Miss Kirkland seemed very quiet and subdued today in detention," the toad whispered to herself as England swallowed the bile coming from his throat as the sickening sweet voice echoed in his ears. "I will make certain we have a little chat and more lines will be written." Her white teeth gleamed. "As for Mr. Potter…"

"I do not think that will be necessary…Dolores." The pink nightgown that the toad had taken such good care was now soaked with red tea as the human in front of England gasped as the blond-haired nation suddenly appeared before her. _Humans,_ England softly smirked as the witch continued to gap before him. England prided himself of not only being a good spy; he was also able to master invisibility from an early age, often frightening America with his ancient magic when the his former younger brother got on his nerves. "Good evening," England stated silkily although his heart was aching to crush this human's skull. _A good Englishman must be a gentlemen,_ he urged himself.

"Mr. Kirkland, I do not believe you have the authority to come into my sleeping chambers unannounced." England was not surprised by how quickly Umbridge recovered herself. Her long nails clinked against one another, and her small eyes continued to narrow when he did not move. "Perhaps you did not hear me," she stated with fake sweetness. "You do not have –"

"I do have the authority," England whispered darkly. He saw Umbridge visibly flinch. _What do they see, I wonder?_ England had heard many times that he was very frightening was angry. _"I never want to see Iggy angry again!"_ Even America, the self-proclaimed hero, was frightened of his anger. France told him there was something about his eyes. The nation had never noticed it before, only seeing the nations cower before him. Silently, he moved towards where she sat on her bed, moving past the broken tea cup with shards over the floor. "It is a shame about the tea," he added somewhat wistfully as Umbridge started to tremble. "I do love red tea, although my favorite is Earl Grey." A small smirk appeared on England's face as he noted perspiration on Umbridge's forehead. Suddenly his accent began to emerge, deep within himself. England turned his face toward Umbridge, forcing her to look straight into his eyes. France had told him that he had three stages of anger. Most of what the nations saw was the burning rage and the sharp tongue. Others of the past knew of how calm and collected England could be when faced with a situation, his face cool and his voice dark. Only a few, including France, had seen the last stage of his anger, as his lover had said.

England moved his fingers over towards Umbridge, holding her hand. The former pirate could feel her tremble as his fingers stilled.

"You hurt one of my citizens," England whispered. The same bloodlust that echoed within him during his privateering days surged through. "You made her bleed and her blood soaked into her mind…making her lose her mind." His voice lowered, becoming deeper than before. England could feel the ancient magic within him ooze through his fingertips. The air was tense with dark and oppressive as Umbridge's ugly eyes started to widen at the sudden smile on England's face. "You are nothing," he whispered. England continued to feel the magic build within him, making his entire body crackle. The nation was vaguely aware of his hair, once messy and thick to the touch, waved as if there was wind. "You _are nothing_ compared to me." His breathing slightly became ragged as England continue to grip Umbridge's arm.

"Why do you care?" she suddenly whispered. Her eyes sharply burned in rage. "I am a member of the Ministry of Magic, and that Potter and the old fool Dumbledore are liars!" Spittle came in contact with England's cheek as she spat at him, contempt evident in her face, although the fear was still there. "And that girl is nothing but a mudblo –!" Umbridge screamed as England suddenly broke the arm he was holding, and a long sword was pointed at her throat.

"Stop screaming." Umbridge's fear grew as a smile suddenly appeared across England's face, appearing almost child-like. He leaned forward. "You are nothing, you insolent and disgusting citizen of mine…for I am not human." Throughout the past, especially during times of war, nations revealed themselves to select humans. As the centuries dawned however, the status of a nation became more dangerous and fatal as the world changed again. Nations could be killed or kidnapped, by governments or humans who wished harm upon a certain nation. Japan had almost been kidnapped by North Korea three decades before, and the occurrence described of how the nations were constantly on edge, not certain when a plan would finally succeed. England would make an expectation for Umbridge, however. "I am a nation, one who has lived for thousands of years." His smile faltered, and England closed his emerald eyes.

"I am…England." He stared in the direction of Umbridge's face, satisfaction seeping through him as her face paled, whiter than a sheet. "You are a fetus compared to me, and I will not allow you to manipulate my citizens any longer!" England's voice raised to a hoarse shout, and he paused at the sword continued to point at Umbridge's throat. The woman was visibly crying, the tears ugly against her face as a spot of blood appeared from her neck.

The sword disappeared and the wounds on Umbridge started to heal. England turned away. He did not look at her.

"I will not kill you," he told her quietly. The anger faded from his limbs. "I have killed more noble humans than you. Leave this place," England added as he walked slowly from her, remembering a different moment in time as he stood in the corner of the chamber. "Leave Hogwarts tonight. I do not want to see your face." He turned, and England saw Umbridge's face for the last time before he disappeared, pale and whimpering as his cold eyes met hers as he whispered,

"Otherwise I do something I will regret."

* * *

England walked into the chamber, seeing the pale moon frame the young girl's face as she continued to sleep. His feet slowly walked over to her, her blond hair framing her face and emerald eyes hidden from him. England crouched down beside her, his face hovering slightly above hers as his bangs lifted from his face. _Alice…_ England continued to look at her, remembering of the small child he had held in his arms. France by his side with his favorite ribbon in his hair. _Alice…_ A hoarse gasp tore through his throat as tears began to seep from his eyes. Thick and numerous, without a sign they would cease.

 _Alice…_ The tears trailed down his cheeks, falling onto the bed like the rain he loved, his hands trembling. _Mon cher…Alice._

" _Je suis_ _désolé_ _, Alice. Je…"_ he choked. _"Je ne pouvais pasvous protéger. S'il vous plait..._ _S'il vous plait..._ _pardonnez-moi, ma chère Alice. Je me suis promisque je nelaissez rienvous arriver...et pourtant ..."_ England stilled and placed his hand over the blond-haired girl's. He stared at her face as sadness drowned in his eyes. Although he had exclaimed to many nations that he couldn't speak the frog's bloody language, it was farther from the truth.

England could speak French, as he had for almost one thousand years. France often praised him for his fluency in the language, especially when the two held each other in each other's arms and the blue-eyed nation practically begged England to speak the language of love. However, there were times – memories of his darkest moments – when had forgotten how to speak English. The former empire could still remember France's shocked expression when he had appeared in the Frenchman's elegant house, sobbing in feverish French after Elizabeth I's death. At those times, England could only remember French, the language which had been taught to him so long ago. Moments such as this, with tears in his eyes. _"Je suis désolé que vous avez à porter ce fardeau."_ A deep sigh coming from his chest escaped from him. The tears dripped down onto her face, but Alice – _his_ Alice – did not wake. _"Je voudrais pouvoir changer votre destin ... mais je ne peux pas."_ He held her hand, breathing slowly as tears continued to stream, calming at the thought of a memory close to his heart.

"I know…what is to come, and I cannot do anything to stop it," he stated in English. Tenderly, he placed a kiss on her forehead and stroked her face.

"Forgive me."

* * *

 _"I am so sorry Alice. I...I couldn't protect you. Please...please...forgive my dear Alice. I promised that I would protect you...and yet...I'm sorry you have to carry this burden. I wish Ii could change your fate...but I cannot."_


	9. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8_

Two months had passed since that night.

Dolores Umbridge had abruptly and suddenly resigned her positon as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Hogwarts, particularly the students, celebrated with fanfare that was normally reserved for the end of examinations. Harry Potter was the most joyous, for the woman who had titled him a liar and whom was the cause of the scar on his arm disappeared from his life, hopefully for good. The same could not be said for Alice Kirkland.

For although she had endured the same pain the fifth year Gryffindor had and had recovered from her ordeal, she could not celebrate Umbridge's leave. Although the blond emerald eyed child had no scars from her detentions like Harry, something nameless had changed within her. Alice had awoken to find herself in the Hospital Wing, alone besides for the presence of Madame Pomfrey. It had been early in the morning when the first year had woken, and the witch had scolded Alice for apparently giving her Housemates a fright. Although it had not happened for many decades, the nurse had suspected that Alice could have had a seizure during the night, and apparently a pair of Gryffindors had risked detention to transport her to the hospital wing. Although it was apparent that Alice was in good health, and the Gryffindors who had helped her had bewildered looks when Alice thanked them before nodding rapidly. _Is that not what happened?_ Alice could only remember flashes of that night.

Pain as deep as bone, feeling death with every breath, and blood her only reality. Alice could vaguely see faces, fires burning, and dead bodies buried beneath rubble. Alice had not told anyone about what she saw the night. It took a long time for Alice to sleep soundly again, the memories although feeling detached, echoing in her mind ceaselessly. She often held her pocket watch in her palm, seeing the slim hands sing their song, wondering when she would finally fall asleep.

"I had a dream." Alice confessed as she ate breakfast one early December morning. Hermione and Harry looked up, alarm slightly in their eyes. "It wasn't a nightmare," she reassured. Her confusion shadowed across her face as she said the next words. "It was about Professor Kirkland."

"Why Kirkland?" Ron mumbled through his scrambled eggs, concern and alarm showing through his expression as well although Hermione sent him a chiding look.

"Well…" Alice hesitated. She could still hear his voice, almost whispering as his broken face held above her own. "I don't know why…but I thought I heard him speaking French to me…and he was crying."

Dumbfounded looks came from the fifth years. Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"How would Professor Kirkland speak French? He seems to be very patriotic, and almost always has a criticism of anything French related in our classes." Although the statement was true, Alice had seen fondness cross Professor Kirkland's face when he mentioned the city of Paris, and unmistakable grief when he somberly explained the battle of Somme. There was something…almost different when the young professor suddenly turned and stared at the map of a broken France after the country had surrendered to Germany in June of 1940.

Alice mindlessly nibbled a piece of her buttered toast as Hermione and Harry continued to speak quietly, now glancing now and then at Professor Kirkland, although not out of concern. As the months passed at Hogwarts, the mysterious wizard suddenly started to become pale and had shadows under his eyes. _Is it because of me?_ As time passed, Alice became convinced perhaps the professor had some kind of hand in how she had healed from her wounds. The History of Magic professor and the Gryffindor first year had taken to having tea together every Friday after their last classes. He was a kind person, Alice realized after spending only a week with him and having conversations with him. It was when the first week of October began when Alice had the dream of the professor crying over her.

"Alice, has the professor…seemed odd when he interacts around you?" asked Harry.

Alice shook her head. "No. He calls me by my first name though," she added to the bewildered stares. To calm them, she smiled. "We often talk about history and of how my schooling is going...and he tried to stop me from going to detention on the night Umbridge left." Alice noted of how Harry gritted his teeth and fury drowned in his eyes at the mention of the witch. _He's angry because of me too,_ she thought. The older boy had bonded with her over the same detention they had faced. "I guess she just wanted to see if I could hold up on the offer I made."

Offer?" Hermione said. "What offer?"

Alice self-consciously rubbed her hair. "When Harry and I had detention together for the first time, I asked her if I could write the same length of lines as him." Alice's sentence became a whisper as Hermione simultaneously glared at Alice and Harry.

"What did the professor say?" Ron asked before there could be an argument.

"He said…" Alice tried to recall his words, but could only see his saddened face and tears. _"Je…suis...desole…_ " She stared at Ron when he began to laugh. "What?" she asked in irritation as his laughter almost caused him to collapse. His face was almost as red as his hair.

"I think I know what's wrong, little mate." Ron breathed as laughter continued to escape from him as Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You…have a crush on Professor Kirkland." A blush formed on Alice's face and she started to feel warm as she shook her head. "Most of the girls in our year have a crush on him, Merlin knows why," Ron said as he pointedly ignored the glare Hermione gave him and the exasperated look his male friend gave him. "Most of the girls in the entire _bloody_ school have crushes on him, and speaking in French?" He patted Alice's head with mock pity. "You have a crush on him, mate."

"I don't think so, Weasley." Ron almost jumped at the sight of Emyr appearing behind Alice. "This kid is more refined than you will ever be." Alice slightly giggled at Ron's dismayed expression at the Slytherin's smirk. "And you," the dark-haired girl stated to Alice. "Your accent is wrong. The j isn't pronounced in French, and –"

"How do you know French?" Ron interrupted. Emyr raised an eyebrow.

"I have been learning the language since I was four, Weasley, so it's useful." The tall girl slightly leaned forward. "Such as when I curse you and you have no idea what I'm saying."

Ron flushed. "Is this your version of being subtle?"

Emyr pretended to think and paused. "Maybe," she said as she lightly laughed at the Gryffindor's expression. Then she turned to Alice. "I wonder why the professor was apologizing to you." At Alice's confused expression, she explained. _"Je suis desole_ means I'm sorry."

"Where's Evangeline?" Emyr shrugged.

"I think she's in the library somewhere. Hopefully she didn't get into a fight with Winter's annoying git of a little brother again." Alice nodded, remembering of when Evangeline had come to potions with a sprained ankle and a detention, although Winters had fared worse. He had a splintered tooth and a closed eyelid.

"Have either of your heard of Professor Arthur Kirkland's Fan Club?" Ron suddenly asked. The four students shook their heads. "Maybe you should join the club," Ron said as he ignored the hot glare Emyr shot him and the blush on Hermione's and Alice's faces. "All of you are apparently bookworms, and I think Alice would have the best chance at getting to know him since she loves Muggle history so much. In fact, I think you might have the biggest crush on him, little mate. Your dream –"

"C-crush?" Alice almost shouted as she stood and pointed her shaking finger at the redhead. "I-I do bloody not! He is my history professor, and how…indecent it would be if Elizabeth I saw me now?" Everyone except Hermione gave Alice blank looks. "The Virgin Queen?" she prompted hopefully. "The one who said she was married to the nation?" Alice sighed and finished her toast. "How can witches and wizards not know about our country's history?"

"Muggle affairs don't really affect us," Ron said. "At least back then," he added hastily with a glance at the History of Magic professor. "Who knew there were wizards who fought in World War I? Anyway, this Elizabeth person sounds like she should belong to Professor Arthur Kirkland's fan club," he joked. "The professor is so English, unlike his brother." He snickered into his goblet of pumpkin juice.

"The professor has been acting odd lately since his brother accepted the Defense Against the Dark Arts position," Hermione noted as Alice's face became worried again as Ron started to joke around with Harry and an unenthusiastic Emyr. "I'm certain your dream was just nerves." Alice nodded, not entirely convinced. Her attention wandered and found that the new professor, the one with the bright red hair, was staring at her with undivided attention. Alice looked away and pretended not to notice the fluttering in her heart.

* * *

"What's your relationship with that kid, England?" England bit back a retort and glared at his older brother as the tall Scotsman stood before him in his office. England had been beyond stunned when he found that his brother Scotland had applied for a job at Hogwarts as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and had been accepted. Minerva had asked sternly afterward why he had responded with such reluctance when the new professor was introduced the school. England had simply replied that _"they simply had a very long and complicated history."_ Serveus Snape had sneeringly replied of how grateful he was to have more Kirklands to tolerate. England had not replied, but had seethed at Scotland the entire evening. England had demanded why Scotland had left his position at such a precarious time, and his anger had grown when the bearded ginger had shrugged and took a long drag to his cigar before relying. The oldest brothers had stated that someone needed to take after the youngest Kirkland – at that statement England started to splutter – and that Ireland and North were talking again. _"Besides, the useless French nation is doing all the paperwork,"_ he concluded lazily as if that solved every problem.

"England." The blond nation was brought back to the present as Scotland stared at him with serious eyes. "What's your relationship with that kid? Blond hair, emerald eyes, small –"

"I know what she looks like!" England snapped. An irrational anger surged through him as he stared at his brother. "Why should I tell you anything, after you haven't properly spoken to me in more than two decades?" Hurt shown through his emerald eyes, although the pain was deeper than England physically showed. "I know we have our problems, Scotland, but I've already said my apologies." Scotland frowned and crossed his arms as his youngest brother's shouts began to grow louder.

"That is what I am trying to teach," England stated as he calmed slightly as he stared into his brother's lighter green eyes. "To learn from the mistakes from the past and accept different peoples and cultures." England suddenly stiffened and his eyes squeezed shut. Scotland attempted to push him away, but England held his hand up. "Don't you have a class to teach, you skirt-wearing wanker? Go. You're invading my space." England didn't flinch as he heard the door slam behind him, and in fact smiled. A cough suddenly emerged from his throat, and he put his hand to his lips.

The hand was smeared with blood.

England was not worried. Although he hoped that his fellow professor wouldn't notice, it was only a matter of time before he had a massive attack, more vicious than the ones before.

"We all have to pay for our actions sometime," he sighed.

* * *

Something was odd about Professor Kirkland, Harry noted. The professor seemed out of breath, and his expression looked haggard. The class also seemed to note that something was off about the normally strict and passionate professor, but the room remained silent.

"Now, in the final stages of World War I –" The end of the sentence did not come. The professor stilled and his mouth openly gaped as he feverishly looked for something in his pocket.

"Professor –" A concerned Ravenclaw stated. Suddenly her eyes began to widen when Professor Kirkland began to cough. At first, the coughs were light and sounded as if it could come from someone who had a cold. The coughs became more numerous, and Harry's heart stilled when he saw splotches of blood on Professor Kirkland's handkerchief.

* * *

England groaned inwardly when he found splotches of blood on his handkerchief. _Of all the –_ Another cough came, blood coming from his lips again. He was aware of his student's growing concerned stares as his coughing appeared to not cease. A particularly violent one made him collapse on his knees. His head spun. _What's…happening?_ he thought as another cough tickled his throat. _Since the beginning days of the first war, I haven't –_ Blood coated on his mouth and leaked from his chin as his handkerchief fell from his pale and now shaking hands. _Oh, bollocks –_ the blond thought again as there was another violent wave from his chest as he coughed blood onto the floor.

"Professor!" It was Granger, England noted. "You need to go to the Hospital Wing!"

"I don't need the Hospital…Wing!" England held his breath as another spasm of pain entered his chest, and swallowed. _There is no way for my nation status to remain secret if I go, and even if I do, how can I explain thi?_ "I –" There were stunned cries as England coughed up more blood, splattering onto the floor and the raspy breathing coming from his lungs. Another particularly violent spasm built in his chest, and the English nation unceremoniously vomited a small pool of blood as it leaked from his lips.

Weak as his limbs suddenly failed, England was sprawled on the floor as his breathing shallowed. He coughed again, almost choked, and his agony-filled eyes were met with frightened stares of children. _Wizards…don't know –_ He could feel another cough build up inside him, and pain soared as he felt himself being turned on his side.

"Someone needs to go to the nearest professor!" England heard another splatter of blood drip onto the floor, and gurgled as another particular coughing fit increased – too quick for him to get the blood out. "Professor Kirkland!" Hazy with pain, England would have indignantly yelled despite his position as he felt himself being carried by familiar arms suddenly. Curses echoed against his ears, and England vaguely heard his name being called as blood continuing to spill as he coughed, weaker with every moment. Another bout of vomiting blood and the dizziness enough to make his vision blurred, caused the English nation to fall into unconscious.

* * *

Alice stood as an abrupt heaviness came into her chest. Professor Snape looked at her, displeased and slightly sneered.

"Yes, Miss Kirkland?"

"I…need to…" For some reason Alice found it hard to take a breath and swallowed heavily as the heaviness in her chest increased in tenfold. "I need to…sit down."

"Then why are you standing, Miss Kirkland?" Although Snape was still sneering, a serious expression appeared on his face. Beside her, Evangeline frowned deeply.

"It'll…just be a moment…" protested Alice breathlessly.

Evangeline caught her before she fainted on the floor.


	10. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9_

England groaned and opened his eyes. He hissed, almost grabbing his eyes in instinct. For a moment all was still. A pair of emerald eyes opened to find a glowering Scotsman towering over him.

"England." The younger nation wasn't surprised by the growing anger in his voice. "Why didn't you tell me?" England frowned and was about to retort when he saw his brother's white button down shirt was stained with blood. There was some blood stained against the collar, and it took only a moment to realize that it was Scotland who had carried him when he had his attack.

"We haven't spoken in years," England said bluntly as his older brother's face continued to redden. "I don't see why I should bother you with such a small thing."

Scotland's lighter emerald eyes turned into slits at his younger brother's tone. "This _small thing_ ," he hissed, "almost caused your secret to come out and you almost –"

"I've been coughing up blood for months, Scotland." England stated more gently. The ginger was surprised. It wasn't often that England spoke gently. "I didn't want to worry you."

Scotland snorted. "Does the useless cheese know about this?" He grinned inwardly when he saw England flush.

"No." England observed that he was in the Hospital Wing, the beds thankfully unoccupied and no one in sight as the two nations conversed. _Nothing has changed,_ England thought with a slight wistfulness. He had gone to Hogwarts as a student when it had been first built, and he noted with pleasure as he walked the halls again after more than one thousand years that inwardly, the castle had hardly changed through the passage of time. Unlike most humans, wizards and witches seemed to be content with the past and not moving forward in technology or science, as did their non-magic practicing partners did. England still remembered the Sorting Hat placed on his head, and the history that refused to leave his mind. "I did…not want him to know."

"Some lover you are," Scotland scoffed. The taller nation slightly smirked at his younger brother's sudden self-conscious expression and opened his mouth to speak before the ginger continued, this time pointing his finger across from him. "England, isn't that the whelp who looks like you?" England's eyes widened as he looked across to find Alice Kirkland unconscious with her blond hair slightly askew. Scotland continued to speak even as England's breath hitched. "Some Slytherin girl and professor came here not long after I dropped your arse in the bed. They said she collapsed." The ginger nation stopped speaking as he watched England's face whiten and mutter to himself.

"The connection…" the Englishman whispered, staring at the small blond girl. "It's too strong…"

"Connection?" Scotland barked. England turned towards him, watching solemnly as Scotland became more bewildered with each passing moment. "England, I only knew of your attack because of Mum. She wanted us to look out for each other, and I know that those barins America and Canada have the same connection because they're brothers, like us." England didn't flinch at the mention of their mother. It had been a millennium since she had died, but her death had caused the rift between England and his brothers that stood to the present day. There was anger in Scotland's eyes, but also confusion as he stared at England with shock. "Are you telling me that this girl collapsed because of your pain?" Scotland turned and held his brother's robes in his fist. "Tell me what's going on! Why would you have a bloody connection with a mere human?"

England was immune to his brother's yells as his mind thought of the memories he thought he had buried deep inside. He had thought wrong, and he gave a small and sad smile at Scotland as the oldest son of Britannia stared at him in shock.

"She's not human, Allistar." It had been so many centuries since England had said his brother's human name. He had not forgotten, and judging from the look on Scotland's face, his brother thought he had. England sighed and he began to remember where it all began.

 _"Angleterre?" England inwardly groaned._ Of all the people to see me undignified – _His thought was cut short by another violent bout of nausea as his vomit coated in the bottom of the toilet. "Angleterre?" England breathed deeply as another volume of bile emerged through his throat. It didn't matter. It came out of his mouth in uneven streams. When it was over, England came to notice the soothing circles France made on his back. It soothed him, and the touch appeared to calm his stomach as well, for it finally quieted._

 _"Mon amour, are you okay?" England didn't respond as France took out a handkerchief and wiped his mouth, softer than the many other times the French nation had found his lover hugging the toilet bowl. "This has been going on for a while now. Are you sure…?"_

 _England shook his head, causing yet another spell of dizziness to overcome him. France held him steady, concern growing in his eyes as he noted the Englishman's paleness and the dark rings under his eyes. "My house is fine," he rasped as he inwardly shuddered at his own weakness. "The economy is doing well too." A pensive expression came on his face. "I wonder what is causing this sickness."_

 _"Isn't it obvious?" Both England and France jumped at the sound of another voice. It was sleepy and raspy as England's own, as if it hadn't been used in centuries. England's eyes widened with shock as Greece walked into the bathroom with a nonchalant expression on his face as the cat on his head yawned. "You're pregnant, England."_

 _There was silence. Then England started to speak, his voice halting and almost choking with laughter as France still stood stunned beside him. "That c-can't be. We're nations, Greece. Even though we're not human –"_

 _"We had mothers." At this, England stilled and he felt France's comforting hand on his shoulder. "At least, you and I did." Greece blinked and the silence was so long that England thought the Greek had fallen asleep. "We were both born with only our mother's DNA, unlike with humans, who need two."_

 _"That still doesn't explain why are saying this ridiculous conclusion," England snapped._

 _Greece sighed, and at once he stood tall and looked England in the eyes. "Nations who were born and did not only appear, like so many of us. are perceptible to becoming pregnant," Greece stated slowly. "The…situation is even higher if either of the partners practice magic."_

 _"Magic?" England repeated dully._

 _Greece nodded. "Since each nation is male, there are special circumstances regarding the pregnancy. The magic inside both nations fluctuates and surges through the nation born out of another nation's body…through other means." Greece's eyes were slowly closing, and he did not see the infuriated glare England gave him and the slightly perverted smile France gave to his lover. "The magic causes a change inside the body, the internal organs to become female instead of male. Eventually, the body eventually becomes…a woman's body until the fetus is born."_

 _England gave a small cry of dismay at the prospect as France began to laugh eerily and smile at the thought of his beloved nation as a mademoiselle._

 _"I always wanted to see you in a dress again, mon Angleterre." France teased at the blond nation currently glared at the ground._

 _"Shut up," England muttered. "We live in the twentieth century now, not the eleventh century like that terrible time," he stated hotly despite the small smile growing on his face as he remembered France's then-child face beaming with joy as he wore one of the dresses the older nation made for him. The two nations suddenly broke out of their thoughts as they saw Greece staring at the two of them with sadness on his face._

 _"You two won't have much time…" he whispered solemnly as he looked at the two bewildered faces._

 _"Why won't we have much time?" France stated as he suddenly put his arms around England's slender frame. "Is it because Angleterre will have too much time with the baby and not with moi?" A blissful expression appeared on his face as he stared at the blushing England. "I wonder what he or she will look like, mon amour. With your eyes and my hair? With my eyes and your hair?" He suddenly laughed, a laughter reserved when he and England were in their most private moments, when both of them were happy and content to just lie in each other's arms._

" _Will the child have terrible taste in food like your or love fashion like the beautiful France?" France continued to speak, unsuppressed joy growing in his voice as he continued to speak. England could not help but not note a growing smile was growing on his face as well as France continued. Suddenly it didn't seem to matter that his body was going to undergo a transformation, or that the perverted frog was the father of the growing child. England allowed himself a small smile as France began to stroke his hair, gentler than all the centuries they had known each other. "The baby must have a French name, Angleterre, because –"_

 _"England will die."_

 _Both nations froze as Greece began to speak with a toneless voice._

 _"France, do you remember Britannia before England was even born?" His eyes, now hard, stared at the Frenchman._

 _"O-oui," the blue-eyed nation said breathlessly. His blissful expression was now shattered and his eyes vacant. "I remember." He vaguely swallowed. "She was…pregnant…and she allowed me to touch her belly." A slight wistful look appeared on France's face. "Angleterre was fierce even then, and…then she died." The last word was whispered, and England looked stunned as he stared at France's somber expression. He had never heard this story before._ So France…knew me before I was even born? _England thought as he imagined an infant France._

 _"England was her last son. My mother…also died not long after giving birth to me. And Egypt –"_

 _"They died hundreds or thousands of years later!" France protested, desperation clawing it his voice._

 _"But yet they also died when the country was in turmoil." Greece was patient, and he studied France's paling face and desperate eyes. "There was another wizarding war in England's house and his brothers' houses…correct? The Dark Lord is not dead."_

 _"Why do you call him that?" England suddenly hissed. His emerald eyes inflamed, and he felt France reach for his hand as he trembled with rage at the wizard who had caused him so much pain. "Only his bloody followers know him as that." Greece shrugged._

 _"If I meet him, at least I'll be polite. The Dark Lord is not dead," Greece continued. "Those who only study magic and not practice it like myself can feel his spirit still living on despite his body being destroyed." England grimly nodded. Although the bouts of agony and vomiting blood had vanished from Voldermort's downfall, he too could feel the bastard's sickening presence. "There will be another war, more devastating than the one before, and England…" The words needn't be said. France's hand was limp by his sides, and England stared grimly at the Grecian. "The child that you will have is your successor, England. I am…sorry that you will have to fade so soon, when you are younger than me." With one last glance at the two nations, Greece slowly exited the door without a sound behind him._

 _England felt strangely calm. His thoughts were clear, and he glanced at France. The Frenchman had his head bowed and his lips were shaking._

 _"I-I don't want this child!" France almost yelled, his tearing blue eyes boring into England's face as the nation spoke feverish French. "Not if it means…not if it means…" He couldn't even say the words, and England's eyes clouded with sadness as heartbreaking tears fell down France's cheeks. England embraced him, feeling his hot tears running down his neck as the Frenchman continued to sob. "Not if it means…"_

 _"There is nothing we can do, Francis." The island nation forced his lover to look at him, his human name coming out as a gentle caress. The words of the language of love rolled of his tongue. "We cannot change our fate. A nation's death…is only natural."_

 _Francis continued to cry. "England, please." The nation stilled. The French nation had very rarely called him by his country name expect in dire and the most serious of situations. "Arthur…" he whispered as tears fell onto England's face. "Arthur…" he repeated again. France repeated his name over and over as if he was preparing for what was to come. "I don't want you die," he confessed as his voice became a whisper. "Not if it means I'm not part of your world, mon amour." A soft kiss caressed England's cheek. "I…"_

 _"I know, Francis." England murmured as tears too began trailing down his cheeks. He embraced the man he had loved for more than a thousand years, feeling his tears melt into France's own as they buried their heads into their respective shoulders. "I…know."_

Scotland was completely still as England finished his story. The Englishman was drained, sapping out the emotions he had held inside him for decades since the moment he had found out about his pregnancy. He glanced at the young girl, almost looking like she was sleeping, in the bed across from him. _Alice…_

Scotland stunned him by not yelling. He didn't look at England with anger or even disappointment. He simply sat across from him, his head in his hands.

"Why didn't you tell us?" The ginger's voice was subdued and shook with emotion. His eyes, characteristically sharp and sarcastic, drowned in sadness.

"I…" _I don't know why._ England swallowed. "It would be easier if you and my brothers didn't know, including North. I didn't want you to expend your useless energy to –"

"Expend useless energy?" Scotland immediately pressed his face against his younger brother's, and England noted with shock at the proud and stubborn Scotsman was shedding tears. "We could have helped you, Arthur. _Helped_ you!" He shook his head and angrily wiped away his tears. "Why'd you send her away?"

England swallowed. The memory of that night, with his daughter in his arms, plagued his mind. "It is dangerous for nations, Scotland. You know this," he stated, adopting the former impatient tone his brothers knew so well. "People could harm her because of what she exits, or worse, use her as a measure in an attempt to kill me." England inwardly shuddered. "And also…I wanted her to grow up normally…to not be under the belief that it is her existence that is the cause of my future death." He gave a deep sigh. "America and New Zealand believe that my death is because of her existence." Suddenly, he laughed. "I bet you and my so-called brothers would like that though."

"Is that how you think of me?" Scotland softly whispered. England stared at him, hearing the raw pain in his voice. "No matter what I say…no matter what we say…it doesn't mean we don't love you." A lump formed in his throat. "You know that, right?"

"Artie?" England almost flinched and cried at the same time at the sound of the pet name his older brother's had given him as a child. Most of the time, when they had said his name, his siblings had said it in a mocking tone with malice. Now…there was nothing but sadness.

"I couldn't extinguish between teasing and truth," England said bitterly as he remembered the unspeakable words the five brothers had screamed at each other throughout the centuries. Although England had comfort in knowing that Northern Ireland did not hate him and had forgiven him for his actions unlike his older twin brother, England still harbored the fear that the curly and dark haired nation with ice-blue eyes would rebel and hate him…as America had done.

The two estranged brothers were silent for a moment. No one breathed a word as they observed each other.

Suddenly, Scotland said, "When are you going to tell her? You don't have to worry about your citizens witnessing your…scene. I _Obliviated_ the lot of them, thinking that in your class that you spent the entire class period talking about how awesome I am."

There was brief silence.

"WHAAT?!" England screamed.

The shouts and screams coming from the two nations was loud as usual. Thankfully, a silencing charm did wonders and hours passed with both brothers beating the bloody hell out of each other as usual.


	11. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10_

In the last week of her classes before the holiday break, Alice noted a change in Professor Kirkland. Although his health had improved, the blond-haired girl noted of how the professor seemed distracted, especially around her presence. She didn't know why, and when she had asked Evangeline about that, the darker girl shrugged. _"He's probably just bloody noted of how the two of you look like twins,"_ the Slytherin stated sarcastically, causing a smile to form on Alice's lips at the memory. Although she only spent not even six months with Evangeline Emyr, she noted of her habits of cursing were rubbing off on the former chaste-speaking first year, and Evangeline seemed to relax considerably in her presence. The first year Gryffindor saw of how Ron stared at her in disbelief when, after her strange collapse in positions, she often visited the dark haired Slytherin at her table during breakfast.

" _Houses don't usually intermingle with each other,"_ Hermione explained to Alice as her fifth year friend talked with Harry. _"Most of the friends that we have our in own Houses, not that it doesn't happen that we have a…friend in another House."_ Hermione pointed to the Ravenclaw table, where a light haired blond – so blond it could be considered white – ate alone among the students, picking at her cereal. _"That's Luna Lovegood, Ginny's friend, a fourth year. She often rambles about things that don't exist,"_ the older girl stated with an indignant sniff, _"but she is a good listener if you have problems."_ Hermione's face clouded for a moment before continuing eating, leaving Alice to her thoughts as she stared at the older girl.

 _I wonder if she is lonely,_ Alice had thought afterward as she observed the young witch named Luna Lovegood weave her way around the students, whispers following her and students parting where she walked. _Like I sometimes felt before I came here._

"What are your plans for the holidays?" Alice looked up and could see Evangeline peeking at her as she wrote furiously with her quill. They were both in the study halls, as it was there free period. The two would often try to get some of their assignments finished before bed. Usually it was Alice who asked the questions, and not Evangeline, and a spark of warmth surged through the girl at the thought of their developing relationship.

"I'm staying with my parents." Alice beamed at the thought of them. Although they had exchanged letters – her father complaining that this was the late twentieth century and not the early twelfth – Alice still missed them and longed to see their faces again. "Most of the people in our village go to visit their families in the cities during the holidays, so it is especially quiet. What about you, Evangeline?"

"Father and Mother often host dinner parties to celebrate Christmas. We're forced to go." At this, Evangeline made a face, causing Alice to slightly giggle at her friend's expression. "Because my family is pureblood, we used to have many guests over in our manor. Now after the war, they're aren't so many people." For a moment, Evangeline's face darkened and she suddenly stopped writing with he quill. Alice stared at her friend with concern when the other girl's gripped her hands tightly. "My parent's manor was vandalized, so we're not having any parties this year."

"Vandalized?" Alice had been under the naïve belief that wizards and witches didn't do such things to each other. "Why?"

"My parents refused to support the Dark Lord when he rose to war years ago," Evangeline drawled as a serious expression clouded her thin face. "And now with him rising again, they think they'll change their minds." The dark-haired girl shook her head, and Alice wondered if she was truly as calm as she seemed.

 _A house divided cannot stand,_ Alice thought as she remembered the words of the beloved American president Lincoln. _That's what the Sorting Hat said too. Evangeline said that she and her sister are often ridiculed for being friendly with me, and Ron still doesn't trust Emyr only because of the House she was sorted into._ Alice tried to meet her friend's gaze, but found that Evangeline was already writing again. _Professor Kirkland said that we must forgive the past and learn from it…but so far that doesn't seem to be happening._

* * *

Harry watched with growing apprehension as Ron rolled his eyes.

"What is it now, Hermione?"

The bushy-haired teen wouldn't speak for a moment. Her brown eyes focused on the girl's dormitory, where Alice had walked up into.

"Something's not right." Meeting Harry's bewildered stare and Ron's exasperated one, Hermione continued. "Did you find it odd of how Professor Kirkland suddenly started talking about ancient to medieval Scottish history when the day before we were talking about the fall of France?"

Harry had noted. He remembered of how Professor Kirkland had talked passionately about Scottish history and even mocked the English failures, when before all the students, Ron included, knew of how strangely patriotic the wizard was about Muggle affairs.

"It doesn't coincide what we were talking about before, and he seems to be healthier since that day as well."

"That's good, right?" Hermione shook her head.

"I noticed of how Alice thanked the older Gryffindors for transporting her to the Hospital Wing when she had her nightmare." At the mention of that night, Harry inwardly felt guilt taint his stomach. He had heard the younger student's screams, and had been stunned when Hermione had told him that Professor Kirkland had arrived in the common room and left with a screaming Alice in his arms. Since Umbridge had mysteriously left and with their new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor added with insane piles of assignments, Harry had no time to think of that night. However, now that Hermione mentioned it, Harry started to suspect that Hermione had a point. "But no one transported her to the Hospital Wing, except maybe Professor Kirkland…and that in itself was odd."

"It sounded like she was being hunted by Death Eaters from the way she was screaming," Ron noted.

"That's not all," Harry said as he remembered as her wounds healed at a much faster rate than his. "She also –" Suddenly he stopped.

Alice was looking at the older Gryffindors in surprise. Thankfully, it appeared that she hadn't overheard their conversation.

"What are you three doing?" she asked curiously.

"We were…discussing our O.W.L.s and how to prepare for them," Hermione quickly stated as Harry smiled at her quick wit and Ron groaned. "They're coming in a couple of months, so we can't be too careful."

It appeared that Alice believed them. "I forgot that I was supposed to visit Professor Kirkland after class, so I'm going now." Harry's eyes widened a fraction, and he noted both Hermione and Ron peer at the emerald-eyed girl curiously. The smile on Alice's face faltered for a moment before her former expression returned. "It's going to be the last time I'll see him before we come back, so I wanted to give him something before I left."

Harry's curiosity peaked as he stared at girl almost glowing with excitement as the first year fingered something in her pocket.

"I've got to go now," she stated as she almost ran towards the opening of the common room. "Cherrio!"

"She certainly is strange," Ron said as he stared at the girl's back. Harry nodded. Even among Muggles, the way Alice said good-bye was strange. Hermione was not thinking about what was said however.

"Harry." The dark-haired teen stared from the seriousness of his friend's tone. "Get your Invisibly Cloak."

"Whatever for?" Harry asked.

There was a determined look in Hermione's eyes. "We're going to follow Alice and solve the mystery of this strange professor."

* * *

"Professor?" Alice called. She had yet to find the blond-haired wizard who was interacting so strangely to her. She observed the artifacts in his office closely, as if it was her first time in his office. It was mostly bear with dark blue curtains. A desk was in the center of the room with several books and assignments stacked neatly. "Professor Kirkland?" She did not notice of how, as she slowly closed the door, the Gryffindor students were spying on her and the absent professor.

"Oh, hello Alice." Alice started, and turned to find Professor Kirkland walking towards her. "Are you looking forward to the holiday?"

Alice nodded. "Although I will miss you, Professor Kirkland." For some reason the words did not have the reaction Alice thought it would have. The professor looked away from her, and didn't move as she moved closer to him, trying to understand what was wrong. "Professor?" she whispered. The wizard appeared to hunch, his eyes not meeting hers. "Professor, what's wrong?"

Professor Kirkland stared at her once more, and she was stunned to find him looking at her in apprehension. "Come near me, Alice." Alice complied, feeling slightly strange as she found herself straight in front of the professor.

Suddenly she found herself being held in the professor's arms. He held her tight, his arms around her waist and her head lying on her shoulders.

"P-professor?" Alice whispered. The wizard didn't answer her but his grip slightly tightened. "Professor…w-what's going on?" Emerald eyes stared into her own as the History of Magic professor suddenly released his hold on her and looked at her with a tender glance.

"My dear child…" His voice faltered for a moment, and Alice was astounded to hear the emotion cracking his voice. "How I wanted to hold you for so long." A smile appeared on his face.

"Professor…" Alice stated with growing apprehension as the blond wizard continued to stare at her. "What's going on?" Her voice slightly quivered. "What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry for lying to you, Alice." The girl blinked, uncertain what she was hearing as the professor spoke solemnly. His emerald eyes darkened with unknown sadness. "I thought…it would be the best."

"The best…?" Alice echoed. This time the professor smiled at her ruefully.

"I am not who I appear to be, Alice." He said her name softly like a song. "I am known as Arthur Kirkland by some…but by many, I am known as England." She stared him, hardly taking a breath at his words. "I know it is hard to believe. Only the leaders of the world know I exist." The professor's expression became serious. "I am a nation."

"Nation…?" Alice gasped. She thought vaguely of countries the professor had stated during her time at Hogwarts. _"In November of 1918, the German Empire surrendered to the Allies. As you know, the Allies consist of…"_ Alice stared at the professor in front of her. How could he be a nation? If it was so…

"Yes." Professor Kirkland was very patient. "We have lived throughout centuries, breathing history as we hide our secret." He stared at her with a sympathetic expression. "Many of my citizens balk when they here of this and meet me for the first time." Suddenly his expression fell, becoming subdued. "Alice, you are different." The girl looked at him with shock. "You…are also a nation." He did not bother to hide the truth. "You are not human."

Alice could barely breathe as the professor – no, the nation, stood in front of her. As she stared into his eyes, she could see the images in his mind – bombed buildings, soldiers wearing red coats running to the battlefield, and a young queen with red hair beaming – when she stepped back. She didn't know why couldn't speak.

"How?" she rasped moments later.

"You are my daughter." Alice's wide emerald eyes stared into his gentle own. "In truth, I am your mother, as some would say. I gave birth to you," he stated with patient gentleness as Alice stilled. "Being the son of Britannia and both your father and I having magic, you were conceived and born." The girl's emotions and mind were in turmoil, vaguely hearing what the man claiming himself to be England stating as he stared at her with…love in his eyes.

"W-what about my parents?" Alice almost yelled. She did note of the man in front of her remained calm and collected as her emotions became chaotic.

"They are your adoptive parents, Alice." The first year Gryffindor stared at him in shock. "I had no idea they shared the same human name as I did." A small smile graced England's face. "France is your actual father."

For a moment Alice felt numb. She stared at this man – this nation – in front of her and suddenly anger flamed in her veins.

"So all of this was a lie…?" Alice whispered. She was trembling and trying to control the emotions in her voice, but found that she couldn't. "All of my life…was a lie?" Her emerald eyes flamed. "Why didn't you raise me then?!" She screamed as angry tears started to fall from her eyes. England was staring at her in shock, his face white and his eyes wide. "Why didn't you and this supposed France raise me then, like good parents?!"

"Alice…" She didn't see of how hurt he was by her words, for anger had overtaken her reason. "You are my successor…the next England. I…selfishly, I wanted you to have a normal human life before becoming one of us." He closed his eyes briefly, agony drowning in his emerald orbs before he looked at her face. "I'm sorry, Alice. I wish this didn't happen to you."

Fearfully, as she stared into his tearing emerald eyes, Alice ran, tears falling onto the ground like silver as she ran from the office.

* * *

England stared at the door in defeat as he continued hearing Alice's cries. _That went well, you stupid excuse for a nation,_ he thought as he sighed deeply. He should have expected this. Perhaps…he had hoped too much that she would not react like any other human would. Steeling himself, England turned towards the doorway.

"Potter. Weasley. Granger." His voice was strangely quiet and emptier than he would usually be if he had caught his students eavesdropping and spying. "Reveal yourselves," he said tiredly.

* * *

Alice didn't know where she was going. She only knew her heart was breaking into tiny pieces. _My life…who I thought I was…_ She thought of her mother, brushing her hair as a little girl, and her father with the pocket watch in her hand. _"You did brilliant today, Miss Kirkland."_ Tears started blinding her anew as she thought of the young professor who had revealed to be the nation she loved the most – England, and her…mother? Tears started falling faster as a raw howl started to scream through her throat. _I don't understand. I don't understand anything anymore!_ Suddenly she gasped as her body collided with another, falling on the ground as tears continued to trail down her cheeks. The unusual ginger hair was unmistakable, and she noted the professor's lax attire of a white button down shirt and dark brown trousers. His eyes, so much like her own and Professor – England's, looked down at her knowingly.

"Come with me," he said.


	12. Chapter 11

_Chapter 11_

Alice watched as the ginger-haired Kirkland walked in the halls. Their footsteps, hers lighter and his echoing throughout the stone walls, took a turn when he suddenly raised his hand and murmured a word. _What is that?_ Alice thought as she heard the strange words. She hadn't heard of that language before, whatever he spoke. _And he doesn't have a wand either,_ the blond haired girl thought. _I thought witches and wizards could only do magic by their wands. How is it that –_

"Here we are." Alice heard a small chuckle escape from the elder Kirkland as she gasped. In front of her were the Hogwarts grounds. Although her friend Evangeline was surprisingly active – she went outside every day despite of the cold December weather to walk around the lake – and had declined every time to go with her. _"Are all of you Muggles this weak?"_ The first time she had said this, there had almost been scorn dripping in her voice. However, when the dark-haired girl had asked the same question, Alice had heard a teasing tone in her voice. And in her eyes…perhaps sadness? Alice looked in awe at the scene. The snow was pearl white, soft against her simple shoes, and she could see the lake hard with ice, almost looking like silver. The snow was falling down gently, almost like the rain Alice loved. Her emerald eyes looked at the stars, beautiful and amazing.

"How did we get here?" Alice asked breathlessly. She found the professor's smirking face to be gone as she stared at him with wide eyes. "Your wand –"

"We don't need wands." His tone was rough, but he was looking at her in amusement. "Humans have lost the skill to weave magic with their hands."

"Humans?" Suddenly Alice jolted back to Professor – no, England. _"You are not human, Alice."_ The first year swallowed hard. "Are you…a nation as well?" She noted of the shock in his lighter green eyes, and was stunned when he smiled.

"Aye." There was pride in his voice. "I am your uncle Scotland." He winked, not noting Alice's distant expression.

 _Uncle…_ Alice bit her lip at the thought. _If he's my uncle then…what does that make England to me? Is he truly…?_ Before she could open her mouth to speak however, the nation across from her began to speak.

"I know what you're thinking." Alice's mind was haunted by the memories of what England had told her as the nation known as Scotland began to speak. "How can I be his daughter, you are thinking. It's actually quite simple." The girl with emerald eyes looked at him strangely when the nation suddenly poked her nose. "How many first years can do magic like you can without breaking a sweat? I've seen you in practice, Alice. You're good." For a moment he paused. "You're more than good, actually." Alice did remember of how she was able to transfigure straw into a needle immediately after stating the spell. She had heard disgruntled whispers of saying that she was only good because she stole magic from those worthy of it. Alice had also heard amazement from others, including Hermione, who had stared in shock at Alice practicing her magic. _"It took me all night to complete that spell. It's a tough one."_ Her eyes looked back in curiosity and narrowed when Alice simply uttered the spell and managed to levitate several objects. Alice's mind reeled. _But why…?_ "England has always been good at magic. Excellent at magic, actually. Our mum taught us everything." A wistful expression spread across the professor's face, and Alice looked down, unable to stare into his saddened eyes. Then suddenly he gave a bark of laughter. "Your patriotism. I've never seen such a proud human talk about the English history, the English achievements and people as much as England himself." He looked into her eyes. "I've bet you wondered why you feel so proud to be goddamn English. Well, it's from my wee bastard of a brother." His face clouded over for a moment, and Alice stared at him in confusion before Scotland began to speak again. "Your healing ability is like us, too." His arms crossed his sides, and Alice noted of how his hands were white – and not from the cold. "I have no bloody idea why my brother waited so long to heal you from that bitch's torture, but he did."

Scotland moved toward her, Alice instinctively wanting to back away but didn't, and she watched in an easing heart as he tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear.

"You remember, don't you?" His voice was dark with regret and anger. "Those dreams."

Alice remembered. She remembered feeling numbing and agonizing pain that tore through her entire limbs, and the scenes of death and destruction. Bombed buildings. A mass of unrecognizable bodies in a grave. And then, suddenly it had stopped. _"Mon cher Alice."_ Of her former History of Magic professor crying as she lied with closed eyes. _What…is he to me now?_ From the expression on her face, Alice's said uncle sighed.

"Why?" The signs were clear, Alice realized now. How could it be possible that a Muggle-born first year, without any knowledge of magic at all, master spells so quickly? Her parents had never been particularly patriotic. And Alice…never knew why she loved her country so much, despite of the empire that destroyed so many lives and the wars that tore people apart. The child didn't understand of why people, even those who were old and remembered of times long past, would stare at the girl wearing Union Jack flag shirt and waving a flag as big as herself. And the healing…Alice did not understand this at all. Until now. "Why…did England…abandon me?" Much to her shame, tears were again starting to emerge from her eyes. His kind expressions when they had talked echoed in her mind. "If this is all true, then why did he let me live with…humans?" Her voice almost choked on the word.

Scotland stared at her sympathetically. "I didn't know about you myself until you and my little brother were brought to the Hospital Wing," he confessed to a crying Alice. "England…told me that he wanted you to grow up as a human, unburdened with what we nations face." His face turned mournful. "Do you know how many times I have heart him? How many times he has hurt me?" Alice was only aware of his burning light green eyes burning into her own. "I suspect…he wanted you to not hear the arguments and grudges we nations often have. But more than that," he added, "I think he wanted to protect you. Nations could be killed easily if the wrong person knew, and he…" Scotland's voice faded, and he stared out into the darkness, the stars beneath both of the non-human beings. "My brother wanted to protect you."

Alice thought back to that night, with the blond haired emerald-eyed nation at his most vulnerable moment, his voice raw with pain as he spoke in a language Alice didn't know. _Emyr said he was saying "I'm sorry," and at that time, I had no idea what he meant._ Alice's hands turned into fists as emotions – regret and confusion lingering still – surged through her as new tears fell, warm and wet against her face. _If what you say is true…_ she thought with a glance at Scotland through her blurry eyes, _No, it_ has _to be true. Why else…?_

"I heard him speak after I was healed." Alice lightly smiled, the tears steaking down her cheeks and inwardly criticizing herself for being so _dense._ "It was England who healed me, wasn't it?" Her breath shuddered and she continued. "He was…crying and he spoke in French to me. I don't think he knew I was listening." Suddenly she turned her gaze towards Scotland, and Alice could see the reflection of herself in his own green orbs. "I had no idea he could speak French," Alice whispered to herself.

"Of course he can speak bloody French." Scotland sounded irritated by her ignorance. "His nobles spoke it for four hundred years." Suddenly he gave a small smile when Alice softly began to laugh. It felt like years since both of them had heard laughter peel from her lips. Then suddenly her laughter fell short and a faint but noticeable blush framed her cheeks.

"What should I call him now?" Alice was embarrassed to finding it hard to look at Scotland. "I mean, he did call himself England but he said that he gave birth to me and that France…is my father." There was no pain or bewildered look as she spoke to her uncle. "How did that happen? Is it because you're nations?"

As Scotland began to explain the origins of her birth, Alice withdrew into her thoughts as she listened to him. _It is rather obvious that we do look like we share blood. We have the same tone of blond hair, only mine isn't unruly as his is. I have his eyes…and Ron would joke of what a tragedy it would be if I inherited his eyebrows._ A wistful smile appeared on her face. _I wonder what kind of traits I inherited from my father._ She should have not been surprised when Scotland had told her that France could practice magic. Still, her eyes glowed as Scotland muttered about the apparent useless nation. Inwardly, Alice frowned. _France isn't necessarily useless. There's the French Revolution…and Jeanne d'Arc…_ Somehow though, her mind went blank as she tried to find reasons why France wasn't useless. _I_ really _need to brush up on my French history._

"You can call him Mum." Scotland stated as his voice broke Alice's thoughts. "Australia and New Zealand do."

"Do they get along?" Alice asked. Scotland knew immediately what she meant.

"They're not ones to dwell on the past, kid." Alice smiled, as Scotland reminded her of Emyr when he called her that. "And you can call me Uncle Scotland," he added with a smile as he pointed to himself. Alice giggled at his childish antics.

Suddenly she became aware of how…free she felt. The questions that had been unconsciously there in her mind had been answered. The reasons why she was so passionate about history and why her magic was omnipotent. A brush of wind caressed her cheek, but Alice shivered nonetheless. Scotland noted of his niece's discomfort, and with a soft word, they were inside the castle again.

"I think I should go to him," Alice said as Scotland prepared to go into his office. "To…apologize." Before Scotland could say a word, Alice began to run, thanking her uncle as a sudden feeling of freedom surged through her. _I feel…happy._

* * *

England stared at his three citizens. He noted with a faint humor that the trio still were looking at him with opened mouths.

"Are you really a nation?" It was Weasley who spoke first, and he flushed as England turned his gaze towards the young human. "I mean…are you truly not human?"

"That I am," England stated as he stood before the three. Granger and Potter were still looking at him skeptically as the redhead appeared to be awed. "You didn't truly expect a young wizard with no apparent education to start talking about history that is significant, did you?"

Granger shook her head. "I found it odd but strangely fascinating." A faint whisper escaped from her. "Sir –"

"What do you mean history that is significant?" Weasley asked as his female friend glared. "Our history is important too, perhaps even more than Muggles' history."

England inwardly cringed and sighed in frustration. _No matter what century they are from, bloody wizards are all the same._ "Have you not learned what I taught you all semester, Weasley?" There was frozen anger in his voice, and the human slowly backed away. "The history is all intertwined with one another. You think that you have a stick that has magical properties makes you any better than the humans you call Muggles?" Potter and Weasley were about to angrily retort when England continued. "It is unconscious in your minds that because these people do not have magic, they are similar to children – unable to understand situations and to be protected. You have thoughts that the magical world is better than the non-magical one, but you are wrong." England took a deep breath and spoke softly and carefully. "The non-magical world is as beautiful as yours. Many wizards do not realize this, especially the ghastly Malfoy family who I have the shame of knowing them as citizens, and I believe that the history of whom I partly represent…effects your history significantly. Hitler almost eradicated his magical population. What would have happened if he had invaded England?" The emerald-eyed nation could see a pensive and serious face growing on Granger, as with Potter. "Muggles have minds of their own. They live as you do, and neither of their lives is more important." Inwardly he chuckled at the thought of Winston Churchill and Elizabeth I and several other figures in history. "Many of them do not need to be protected."

"Professor – I mean, England, is Alice…truly your daughter?" At the mention of Alice, England sighed and sadness drowned in his eyes. _I do not know what I expected. Perhaps…it was too much for her?_ His heart clenched as he thought of the American Revolution. _"I'm not your little brother anymore!" Does…she hate me now?_ He could see Weasley and Potter staring at him strangely, and England almost smiled at the memory of America making that same expression over a decade ago.

"Yes." England tried to clear his throat, the sound of his rasping voice hard on his ears. "She is." He stared hard at the three. "How that happened is none of your business." The three slowly nodded. "This conversation remains in this room. Do you understand?"

"Will you not Olbiviate us?" Ron asked in confusion.

"Taking away a person's memory is a crime in my belief," England stated to the surprised three. "It means taking a part of them away," he explained. "That can never be brought back…and I would not take away my memories of Alice if I could."

"Why are doing this?" Potter asked. England stared at the boy who did not know of how grateful he was to him. He had brought down one the darkest wizards in history, and although he was human, England knew he would forever be grateful to him despite knowing of his own imminent death.

"I am leaving your memories because I trust you," England said.

"Is there anything else?" Potter dared to ask.

England didn't blink. "Nothing at all."


	13. Chapter 12

_Chapter 12_

 _"If you ever need me," England stated as he stared at his daughter sitting across from him, "hold the pocket watch in your hands and say, "'tatum locum.'" I have created an ancient seal that binds the words to me, Alice. As such, if you ever need me, I will be there to offer your assistance." He noted of the confusion and awe on her face as she gaped at him._

 _"How do you do know about the pocket watch?" she whispered._

 _England smirked. "I was the original owner of the pocket watch," the nation stated as his blond-haired daughter continued to stare with a look of wonder on her face. "It was…given to me by an old friend, and they transcribed my initials into there." England hoped that Alice would not see the brief moment of grief on his face. "The watch is very special, because it is one of the only objects that can handle the amount of magic we both have, and stores some of the magic as well, if you use it in that manner. It is your heirloom." For a moment England relaxed and a soft smile appeared on his face. "France wanted to give you a small tattoo of his national flower on your wrist as an heirloom…but thank god that didn't happen." There was a sudden saddened look on Alice's face. "What's wrong?" he asked._

 _"Will he like me?" Alice whispered. England blinked. Why wouldn't he like you? England thought as fondness surged through him – and pride – as he stared at the child that meant so much to him and France. If he knew about what happened to you with that hag…the thirteenth century France who shook fear over the world would surface. And I would not survive._

" _He will, Alice." His daughter looked up with surprise and relief in her eyes, and he remembered the gentle adoration on France's face as he held the child in his arms so long ago, tracing her lips, eyes, and nose with his tender fingers as tears trailed down his cheeks. The girl appeared thoughtful for a moment, as if she was judging her words carefully._

" _What is the national flower of France?" Alice appeared genuinely curious. "What does it mean?"_

 _For a moment pure laughter almost escaped England's mouth. That frog will be pissed, he thought as he remembered of how France had kept insisting that their child would take after him. "It's a fleur de lis," England said carefully as an unbidden smile came to his lips as he remembered a teenage France mockingly bowing to him and handing the flower to his younger flustered self before laughing and running away. "It used to be a symbol of French royalty in the thirteenth century, and is said to represent perfection, light, and life." Alice nodded, unknowingly causing England begin to think again. It had only been a few hours since he had revealed himself to be her parent, but…_

 _The smile Alice had was the only look of love England needed._

Now he was in the snow as he crouched down beside the child who had looked so peaceful hours before. A coat hung loosely over her shoulders, and her bare feet had a blue-tinge as blood flowed from numerous cuts and wounds. She had called to him. Since his daughter had told him that she had planned to tell her human parents about her origins, England had tried to ease the cold feeling he had in his stomach. _Humans may be different in this age,_ England had urged himself. But apparently nothing had changed with time, and the result with a broken and shaking child in his arms. England managed to lift her in his arms, noting of how pale and cold she looked. How many hours had she lied there before she had called him? Rage built inside him, causing a spark to appear from the tips of his fingers, but England forced himself to calm. The English nation held his daughter close, feeling her shivering body against his own as he was about to say a spell.

"Mum?" England's emerald eyes stared into his daughter's unfocused orbs as her mouth shyly opened, her voice weak and strained. She turned her gaze towards him and almost smiled before her eyes widened in recognition and she began to cry. "Mum…Mum…!" Thick tears streamed from her closed eyes, and she blindly clutched his shirt. England stared at the child with grief before he transported both of them away.

* * *

England managed to transport himself safely to his house. Without looking for any numerous invitations from a certain American nation, England held Alice closer in his arms and stroked her hair before climbing up the stairs. Since crying out for her mother, the blond emerald-eyed child had been silent. She was numb to England running a bath until it was warm. He eased off her cold and soaked coat and shirt as took her gently in his arms and lowered her into the tub. She had no response. England washed her tenderly, the blueness of her toes and fingers disappearing and her hair free of melted snow. _No child should have an expression such as this,_ England thought with regret and anger as he wrapped her in a towel. _Especially…not one of mine._ Her wounds under her feet had healed, and the child in his arms was now clean and warm, sheltered from the snow. Her eyes were empty, shocked and stunned, her gaze far away from his own. Alice slept easily as she was laid on one of the beds in his room, wearing a soft nightgown. England stared at the peaceful expression on her face and choked by the anger stuck in his throat. The sadness never left him, and his emerald eyes never left his daughter's as looked at her one last time before closing the door.

* * *

England stared at the French nation sitting in front of him. It had only taken him a couple of moments to appear in his lover's house. Although France would often ride on a plane and not use the ancient magic of teleportation so casually, the seriousness in the Englishman's voice caused him to reconsider. Besides, England knew it had been hard on the romance-loving nation to be parted from him.

"What is this about, _Angleterre_?" England tried to not look into France's stunning blue eyes, but it was hard not to. After all these years and after the centuries that England had known him, he still found France unnaturally attractive. The Frenchman was now wearing casual clothes and his blond hair lengthened to his shoulders, appearing concerned when his lover wouldn't speak after calling him after such a serious matter.

"She's here, France." It was harder to speak than he realize. England forced himself to look in France's eyes and saw the shock and then the recognition on his face as England spoke, shaking. "Alice…is here."

"Alice…?" The name was whispered in almost a caress. Steadily, joy started to build in France's eyes. England noted of how his formerly measured voice shook and he put his trembling hand to his mouth. _"Mon fille…?"_ England nodded, not trusting himself to speak. "Arthur…Alice is truly with us now?"

France took his hands in his, and breathed heavily, his gaze on the floor before meeting England's gaze. Tears were freely flowing from his eyes. "This isn't a dream?"

" _Non."_ England breathlessly whispered as his cheeks began to dampen with tears. _"_ _Cela ne veut pas_ _un rêve_ _._ _"_

The two nations held each other in their arms as they wept.

"So…her human parents rejected her," France stated with a knowing but regretful expression. He sighed heavily, nuzzling his forehead against England's as the shorter nations held each other in their arms, their tears and sadness now gone from them at this moment. "Thank you for everything…Arthur."

"Francis." The English nation could see bewilderment in the other nation's gaze at the hesitation in his voice. "I have not told you everything. There was a professor who used dark magic on our daughter…a magic that caused her insufferable amount of pain." The human inside England desperately gazed into Francis' eyes, searching for anger. There was none. "I…managed to heal her and the professor was sacked after I confronted her." The blond fingered Francis' hair gently. "I –"

Arthur was surprised when France gave him an easy smile. "I have no business telling you what to do, _mon amour_. You didn't tell me about the incident for a reason." At Arthur's still stunned expression, Francis winked. "Although I missed the confrontation part. You are one sexy Englishmen when you're enraged."

"Francis…" Arthur breathed, the amount of love pouring into his heart almost impossible. He saw Francis' smile, and felt his own against his lips, and began to lower their faces closer. It had been three long months since they had last kissed, or exchanged any type of affection. Three long months… Before their lips could connect, there was a loud bang.

"Yo! Iggy! Franny!" Both Arthur and Francis face-palmed and inwardly groaned and wanted to scream at a certain American for his inappropriate timing. And for allowing the bloody door to stay open as the snow continues to come in, the island nation fumed as a tall light-browned haired man wearing a bomber jacket appeared in center of the doorway, blissfully unaware of the flurries he was sending in.

"The hero is here!"


	14. Chapter 13

This is probably the longest chapter I will ever write. Be warned in the future for major character deaths and divergent from canon.

* * *

 _Chapter 13_

Alice awoke to a loud bang.

"America, you bloody idiot! There is a _guest_ sleeping here, or have I not rammed that information through your thick skull?"

There was another loud crash. "Why don't you just say that your daughter is here, Iggy, and give yourself a breather?"

There was yet another crash, the sound of breaking china, and curses so obscene even Alice had to cover her ears. She listened to the nation known as England continue to shout at someone named America and suddenly other various voices joined in the chaos.

"You're so lame," shouted someone with what sounded like a German accent. "Not like the _awesome_ me!"

 _"Bruder!"_ Shouted yet another German voice.

"I can't wait to see England's and France's daughter, _da_?" Alice climbed out of bed, listening to the strange voices as she leaned her head against the door. She had looked down and could see that she was wearing a warm light blue nightgown. Alice combed through her hair, her mind somewhat sleepy as she regarded the door with a dull look. She remembered of how England had saved her, arriving as she whispered the words he had told her to, and was carried in his arms as she shook and cried. _"Mum?"_ The child had hoped that her mother, or her parents who had suddenly realized that they were wrong and came back for her, but Alice started to cry anew when she saw that it was only England who had rescued her. Alice's memory was faint from the point. The blond-haired girl remembered of how England had calmly and gently washed her and had put her to bed. When she had clutched his shirt desperately as she had cried out for the mother who had screamed that she was a freak and unnatural, Alice could faintly see England's face burn in anger. Her dreams had been nonexistent as she slept. No dreams of screaming human parents or nightmares of history. Alice didn't recognize the voices that were downstairs, and she moved her ear closer to the door as the person – Russian perhaps? – continued to speak in a light tone. _How does he know about me?_ Alice wondered. "I wonder how cute she is, _da_?"

"If you even _touch_ her you bloody Russian, I will –"

"Kill me with your cooking?" asked the light voice.

"Why you –!" Alice slowly turned the doorknob as she heard England's voice spluttered in anger. For a moment, she paused. The daughter had never heard the nation and history professor so…lax with his emotions. It was almost as if he was people he knew for a very long time, and Alice peeked outside the door to find England still wearing his blue robes and he pointed an accusing finger at a tall man wearing a white scarf and a beige uniform with brass buttons. As she looked closer, Alice noted of how the man had a soft face and was smiling. _Should he be smiling with England glaring at him like that?_ Alice wondered. Suddenly a boisterous voice filled the air. She recognized it.

"Commie bastard! I know the one you _really_ want to see is me!" Alice could see another tall man – where all of them taller than England, she wondered – wearing an American's bomber jacket from the 1940s with glasses. He had blue eyes and a light brown hair with a curl slightly centered on his forehead.

"Stop with the sexual tension!" Alice frowned at the notice of the French accent. _Could…it be?_ Her emerald green eyes could see a tall blond beside England, wearing a bright purple uniform with dark red pants. _He's being very subtle,_ Alice thought with a slight sarcastic tone. She shook her head. _I'm spending too much time with Emyr._ The first year looked closer and could see the man had blue eyes, lighter than the other tall man he was pointing to, and had a couple of whiskers on his chin. "And _Angleterre,_ " he added with faint disapproval, "you are supposed to play the part of the gracious host."

Alice stared. Her entire focus seemed to be focused on the two people standing in the center of the room. She leaned on the banister, seeing of how England's eyes narrowed in mock anger and could see France putting his hand on England's arm lightly as they spoke. _They're…_ Alice thought, her eyes widening as she continued to hear England speak.

"I _would_ have," the Englishman huffed, "if this idiot American hadn't interrupted."

 _This…they are…_ Alice thought as she watched France glance at England fondly. Her fingers tightened.

"It's okay, Iggy." _Iggy?_ Alice thought incredulously. She stared at the man who was now being glared by England. "We all know you were making out with the Frenchie." He ignored their denials. "Besides, all the nations know you have more sexual tension than the commie bastard and I do."

"Hey!" Both England and France yelled. Alice slightly blushed. _Whatever sexual tension is, it seems…important._

"Although, has it disappeared since, you know, your –" Alice noted of the strange anger hinted in the man's voice, and was about to walk down the stairs when there was a quiet voice.

"America- _san_." Alice stared to find a young man wearing a beige kimono walking towards the nation who Alice deduced was America. "Please refrain from making sexual comments regarding England- _san'_ s and France- _san'_ s relationship." Alice froze suddenly when the dark-haired young man with Asian features looked in her direction. "There is a child present."

Alice inwardly gulped when she saw twelve pairs of eyes on her. Nervously, she looked around the room. A Christmas tree that had not been there the night before now stood near the fireplace, with presents under the tree. The long table was covered with food, familiar English deserts that Alice knew and loved, and many others that didn't recognize. Her eyes could see twelve people standing in the room, some holding cups of wine or beer, and others simply together in groups as they all stared at her. Alice looked away, a blush forming on her cheeks until she found a familiar pair of eyes.

"Alice." England called to her, his voice gentle. She noted of how France suddenly held his hand, a smile on his face. "Come down, love."

Warily, Alice walked down the stairs, her face never leaving England's. Suddenly she found herself on the ground floor. She watched as England moved toward her with France by his side, and a rare smile framed his face as he pointed his hand in her direction.

"My fellow nations, let me introduce you to Alice Kirkland." Alice could see a nation with auburn hair with a strange curl look at her curiously. His eyes were closed, and the blond girl noted of how he poked the arm of the tall light-blond nation beside him, a slightly irritated expression on the other's face. "This is the daughter of the United Kingdom of Britain and Northern Ireland and the French Republic." There was a slight pride to his voice, and Alice noted of how he glanced at her warmly as he spoke, and his eyes did not waver even as a nation with curly brown hair wearing a red uniform and America suddenly left the room. "Introduce yourself, Alice." England encouraged.

Before Alice could speak, however, there was suddenly the strange auburn-haired nation in front of her that she had seen briefly before. The girl almost gasped when he opened his eyes to reveal the amber colored orbs, and she jumped visibly when he suddenly took her hand in his and gave them a gentle kiss. Alice, stunned, could only watch as the nation started speaking furiously to her, presumably in Italian, and started to wave his hands, causing her to slightly spin.

 _"Italia!"_ The nation stopped and stared at the light-blond haired nation who was glaring at him. Alice stared at him in shock when he sudden spoke in furious Italian. " _Parlare Inglese._ _Lei_ _non può capire_ _!"_

 _"Signora_ Alice!" Alice suddenly found her emerald eyes boring into the nation's amber, and found herself tightly embraced by him, speaking in English. She could see now that he was wearing a dark blue uniform with tall black boots. "It is so good to finally meet you! We only heard about you when England and _Francia_ were expecting you! You look so _bella_ , almost like cheese on a pasta!"

Alice continued to stare unblinkingly at the nation before there was another shout.

"Italy!" Alice turned to find the tall light-blond haired nation pulling a reluctant Italy away before the other nation sighed and turned towards her.

"I apologize for _mien freund_ ," the nation said as Alice hesitantly shook his hand. "He is…difficult sometimes." Alice noted of how the nation was wearing a light blue uniform with a small grey cross against his neck. "Pleased to meet your acquaintance. I am the Federal Republic of Germany, and this strange nation over there is –"

"But Ludwig!" Germany suddenly stiffened, and Alice saw of how Italy's eyes were closed again, slightly leaking tears. "You called me _liebe_ the other night!" Instantly, the room became full of shouts.

"Awesome!" A nation wearing with white hair and red eyes held his thumbs up in a flustered Germany's direction. "You finally got some, West!"

"I did not "get some," as you say," Germany stated as a faint blush started to faint his cheeks. "I was simply –"

" _Deutschland!"_ Alice could see a nation wearing a cravat holding a cup of china in his hands with a disapproving look at Germany. "I hope you have maintained that Italy's virginity is intact!"

 _What's virginity?_ Alice wondered as Italy asked the same question out loud. Germany would not look at the question in Italy's eyes. The young girl recognized another nation, his dark hair short as he whispered under his breath and was crossing out something on a piece of paper.

"Everyone, shut up!" The nations stared as England stood in the center of the room, fuming. "If you do not quiet and allow my daughter to speak, I throw you until the basement!" For some reason, the majority of the nations shuddered.

The nations quieted, allowing England to take Alice's hand in his and begin to introduce her to the nations in the room. Alice looked back, and could see France look at her with a smile on his face. _Why isn't he coming with us?_ Alice thought with slight concern.

"Hello, _aru_." Alice and England stood still as a nation stood before them. The nation had long dark-brown hair tied in a ponytail and golden eyes. He was wearing a red qipao with gold dragons imprinted. "I am the People's Republic of China. Is is…a pleasure to meet you." Alice noted of how his smile seemed forced. "I hope you are a better nation than your _mama,_ " the nation said suddenly.

"China!" England hissed. "Not in front of my daughter!" He glared at the nation, and pulled Alice away from the Asian nation who had glared at her father with undisguised detest.

Alice was introduced to the nation who had previously mentioned her. She noted that England seemed nervous around him, and released the propaganda she had heard about the former Soviet Union from her mind as she came face to face with Russia. He had treated her kindly and shaken her hand for a brief time before his gaze focused on where the American nation had went. "I apologize for them," England whispered in her ear after meeting the foul-mouthed southern half of Italy and his former caretaker Spain, who had stated clearly to England that he was happy that his former rival could finally find reason to smile now. "They have…been distraught since I told them I was pregnant with you."

"It's okay." It was the first time that Alice had spoken, and she found her voice not as hoarse as she thought it would be. Silently, she looked down at her feet with a sad expression. "There are…worse things." England didn't respond.

"Is it an honor to meet you, daughter of England and France." Alice looked at the nation who was calmly sipping her tea. Despite the weather, she was wearing a traditional sari with a bright red dot in the center of her forehead. Her long black hair went down to her back. "I am the Republic of India."

"I'm sorry," Alice suddenly blurted. She could see England's hands tighten from her outburst, and saw the female nation raise an eyebrow. "I know that England…hurt you in the past, so I –"

"It is in the past, child." Alice was surprised by the gentleness of her voice. India stared at England, understanding in her dark eyes. "I have once walked the path of anger and resentment as well, but the actions of both of us occurred long before you were born." Silently, she sipped her tea as she regarded Alice with a curious expression. "Ghandi once said –"

"Move over, Ghandiland!" India rolled her eyes and England gritted his teeth as the white-haired nation Alice had seen before stood in front of her. "The former awesome Prussian Empire at you service!" He grinned, and offered Alice his hand. "Also known as the awesome Gilbert Bellishimdt, and the older brother of West over there! And here," he suddenly said as his voice suddenly reached an impossibly high volume as he reached his hand forward and pulled another nation struggling in his arms, "is my _freund_ , the awesome Canada!" _I didn't see him before,_ Alice thought as she inwardly pondered as a tall man with light brown hair wearing glasses. He had violet eyes, and a slight smile was on his face as he stared upward at his friend.

"H-hello," Canada said shyly. Alice nodded, but before she could speak, there were shouts coming from the other room. Alice could hear America's voice and another quieter voice as well, somewhat deeper and calmer.

"They're so unawesome," Prussia said as he continued to tightly hold Canada. "They think if they blame you for England's death, it was go away." He shook his head. "Nations eventually die, and we die with pride and without regrets." The red eyes bored into Alice's own, serious and solemn. "Don't allow them to hurt you, okay, _fraulien_?"

"Thank you," Alice murmured. From his actions observed so far, she had thought that the former Prussian Empire would not be serious at all. She was wrong.

"I thought the Prussian Empire was dissolved in 1947," Alice said without a flinch. Prussia looked at her without having to look away. "How are you still here?"

"I lived in Russia's house for a bit," Prussia answered slowly, staring at the said smiling nation before returning her gaze. "I represent the eastern half of Germany. Don't get your hopes up, _fraulien_ ," he stated with a knowing look. "You will represent the entirety of England, not just an eastern half. England and the other accept that though. Unlike those bastards," Prussia said with a glare in the other room's direction.

Alice turned her eyes to the other room, leaving the three nations behind as England attempted to follow before being stopped by France. Alice opened the door, the sound echoing in her ears as she stared into the room. She could see paintings of various sizes, framing the figures Alice had come to know and love. _Richard I, John Locke, Winston Churchill, Eleanor of Aquitaine, and lastly,_ Alice thought as she focused on the largest picture. _Elizabeth I._ She stared at the queen who had ruled England after her sister Mary's horrific rule after burning Protestants, and wondered inwardly if she _had_ married to the nation as the textbooks had said. _England must have loved her very much if –_

"I never truly thought of how great England truly was until you were born," stated a voice. Alice started, turning to find a nation of medium height wearing a red uniform with curly brown hair standing behind her. She looked at him, and saw that his hazel eyes were not burning with anger or resentment. In fact, they were calm. "I…am ashamed to say that I reacted in a way that is not befitting of a nation. I blamed you for something you have no control over." Suddenly he held out his hand and smiled. "My name is William Kirkland, also known as New Zealand."

"New Zealand!" Alice and the nation turned to find America glaring at them. "You're not supposed to be forgiving her!" His eyes darkened as the nation stared at Alice. "It's her fault that England's going to die!"

New Zealand didn't pay attention as America continued to glare at him. Instead, he briefly glanced at the future successor of England before closing the door behind him.

"Is that how you truly feel, America?" Alice's voice was strangely calm as she stared at the nation. She had once perceived the nation as strong and brave, but now, as she had thought with Prussia, the girl was wrong.

"I do." Alice stared into America's darkening blue eyes. "England could still live if you weren't here." He turned away from her before Alice could respond. The emerald-eyed girl was shocked by his statement, but found that she did not cry. Her worst wounds, she realized, had been when her parents had abandoned her and thought of her as a freak. "England raised me, you know?" Alice stared at the back of his head, watching him as he stared at the various paintings in the room. "It's…hard to imagine him gone, and I haven't celebrated my three hundredth birthday yet." His shoulders bowed, and Alice could almost feel the sadness seeping from him. "It's your fault!" he snarled. In his hand was a small gun, and he pointed it at her. "If you hadn't been born, this wouldn't have happened!"

" _Nations die with pride and without regrets."_ Hearing the words echo in her head as she stared at the American nation, Alice's hands curled into fists. Suddenly, she was overcome by furious and unrelenting anger.

"Do you think I _wanted_ this to happen?" she screamed. "Do you think I _want_ him to die?" She glared at America, fire burning in her eyes. "I want him to live, and if you think that I don't feel guilt, then –"

"You barely know him!" America shouted. His shoulders stiffened, and for a moment, Alice could see the ruthless commander that he had been. "I have known him my entire life, and _you_ have nothing to compare in your human life!" He gritted his teeth. "It's because you were born that his time is cut short! Nations are supposed to live for thousands, perhaps even millions of years," he screamed as Alice started to shake from the amount of anger he was emitting. "And yet _you_ –"

"I have a bloody name, America!" Alice shouted. Against her better judgement, the girl inched closer to the nation. "It's Alice Kirkland! And do _you_ know what I bloody experienced?" she spat. "The parents who raised me, the ones who loved me and encouraged me, _rejected_ me!" Unbidden tears started to rise in her eyes. "Not only did they _reject_ me because I practice magic, but because I am a child of two nations!" Alice hoped that America couldn't feel the despair and agony clogging in her voice. "Unnatural. Freak." She gasped heavily, aware of that she had stated the words that had been eating at her heart since the day she had run away into the snow, away from all she had known. "I…have not known as England as long as you have…but it _hurts_ …" Alice gasped as she blinked and looked up at the ceiling in an attempt to blink away her tears. "It _hurts_ to know when one of your parents is truly gone."

America didn't move as Alice started to cry. Her quiet sobs filled in the room, and the nation simply spoke to her when she moved her red-rimmed eyes to her own.

"That is why you don't belong here. You don't see England as a parent, or anything other than a replacement. A role that you have to fulfill. Well, I will tell you something," America stated as tears continued to roll down Alice's face. He pointed his gun at her face. "I won't allow you to England anymore, which is why I –!"

"Alfred Franklin Jones." America stopped. Alice turned.

England was walking towards them, his face grim and solemn as he walked toward them. Alice stared, watching him as he walked. The very air seemed to be infused with his energy, making it hard to take a breath. She looked into his eyes, and could see burning emeralds with flame with a dark and hard look. _So this…is the British Empire,_ Alice thought as she and America started to shake as England came closer. Eventually, the nation was standing right in front of America, their faces almost close enough to kiss, when England suddenly whacked the gun out of America's hands, where it landed with a hard thump on the ground. America had no time to react when England suddenly kicked him hard in the stomach. Alice watched as America lied on the floor, his hands desperately grasping his stomach as he his face was torn with pain.

"You deserved that." England turned and faced Alice. "I'm sorry, Alice." The girl nodded, knowing of what he truly meant as tears continued to caress her cheeks. He meant, _I'm sorry for everything._ "Alfred." England's voice was shockingly gentle, and he brought the younger nation to his feet. "I am going to die. Nothing you do, or say will change that." He stared into America's eyes. "Do you understand?"

America suddenly turned away from England and stared at the large window. It was snowing, looking serene and beautiful as it came down onto the blanket of snow.

"I don't want you to die." The words came out as a whisper. His hand shook. "You _shouldn't_ die, goddamn it! You have so much more history to experience, so much for life!" The light-brown haired nation glared and pointed his finger at Alice. "It is because of _her_ that you–!"

"America." England's voice was strangely calm, and the fellow nation and successor stared when England said America's country name. "Have I ever told you…about my mother?"

"No." America's voice was oddly quiet, and he spoke in a slightly breathless tone. "I always thought…that nations never had mothers. That's what you told me!"

England shook his head. "I did not tell you because I believed it was too painful of a story for you to hear, and…it was painful for me to remember. Now I believe you have a right to know." His eyes were sad, and his face melted into a grief that Alice thought would never heal. "My mother…Britannia…died not long after giving birth to me. I was her last son, and her youngest. I have very few memories of her, and the only clear memory I have of her was of her death against the Roman Empire. Do you know what her last words were to me?"

"No," America breathed. Alice was still, watching of how England took a deep shuddering breath before continuing.

"She told me that she was sorry that she could not see me grow into the proud nation I would become, and that she hoped that I would forgive her for not giving me many memories of her. I…remember her holding me as her body started to disappear, tears flowing from her eyes as she told me that she would always love me, and that she was happy that she got to spend as much time with me as she could."

England stared at America, a look of pure and naked grief on his face. "That is what you need to understand, America. My time with you will only last as long as my breath continues, and when I disappear...you will always know that I will love you." He took the younger nation's hand in his own and softly gave him a smile. "Come. Stand and be the brave and amazing nation that I am proud of."

America was crying. Tears, thick and warm, were falling onto the floor as he stared at England.

"You're…proud of me?" he rasped.

"I have always been," England answered truthfully. "I only criticize you because I care and worry about you, America."

Suddenly, America dropped to his knees and started to wail, clutching England's pants. "I…" he sobbed. "I…just…wish I had more time to spend with you." His sobs echoed in the room as Alice stared at the two of them. "I…didn't speak with you for almost one hundred years after I gained independence, and when we did speak…it was a fight. I still remember the pain when you and Canada burnt down the White House." England combed his fingers in America's hair, understanding and empathy in his eyes. "I…didn't speak with you for another fifty years after we argued after my civil war, and that…was just to criticize you for the European war bullshit. And then, when I finally fought with you, I realized how much I missed you…but then after the war…my bosses forbid me to visit any of the nations who had involvement in the war." America continued to cry, his glasses halfway off his face.

"We only…started getting close during World War II…but hell, _I_ couldn't do anything until Japan…dropped the bombs on Pearl Harbor. I continued to tease you and berate you for everything I did, that _I_ …was the strongest nation in the world now, I wanted to show you…that you could be proud of me."

"I was _always_ proud of you, America. Every nation makes mistakes, that we make or our bosses' make, I believe that nations redeem themselves for the good they do." England's soft words echoed in Alice's ears, watching as England continued to stroke America's hair in a loving manner.

"I…" America continued to sob. "When you told us that one day eleven year ago that you were pregnant, and that you were…going to die…I lost it. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand losing you. How could…you die, because of some creepy snake dude named Moldyshorts and a child who would inherit your role? And so…I avoided you. I…stopped visiting you, not even to tease you mercilessly about your changing body, or even call you the name that the French teasingly gave you. I…sent Tony in my stead during the meetings, despite my boss' rage and his comments about your pregnancy…and I didn't even see you again until you abandoned her." His sobs quieted, and America continued to shake, his face now lifted towards England's, a broken expression on his face. "I placed the anger and rage and grief I had on her, that had been aimed at myself, for that I knew that I regretted every action that I took against you…because I wouldn't have enough time to truly get to know you and spend the time that I wanted with you. I'm sorry, England." America sobbed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm –"

America quieted when England kissed tenderly on the forehead. "Everyone makes mistakes," England whispered to the younger nation. "This is only one of them, America. Use all the time that you have, now, to make memories and thoughts that you will not forget until your time comes as well."

America was silent as tears continued to trail down his cheeks. He stared at the expression England had, before roughly embracing him, and burying his head into England's shoulder.

"Big brother…" he whispered. "Big brother…"

Tears started to immediately fall from England's eyes at those words, and the older nation embraced his younger brother, tears falling onto the floor as they embraced. Alice noted of how England was calming America by stroking his hair and holding his body as the younger nation sobbed broken-heartedly as England softly cried.

* * *

"England?" The nation turned to find his daughter looking at him with wide eyes. The older blond sat down by the corner of her bed, patiently waiting for her to speak. She remembered of how she had tried to leave the room as England and America continued to cry together, but something had stopped her. She had watched after a couple of minutes as America and England stood before the taller nation turned to her and apologized. _"As Iggy would say, I was acting like a big arse."_ Alice had stared at the small and sad smile on America's face as he met her expression. The two had left the room after a moment, allowing England to have a small moment with his daughter before leaving with his younger brother. Alice had stayed in the room, her eyes staring deeply at the paintings covering the walls and the other artifacts surrounding the room. A Napoleon-era sword hanging in the corner of the room among other things.

"Can I…call you Mum?"

England blinked in surprise.

"I know I'm not the first to call you that…but I just…want to you to know that I…love you."

England sighed and softly looked at her with knowing eyes. "You miss them, don't you?"

"Eh?" Alice stated as England began to look at her gently. He told her to tell him about her human parents, everything she could remember about them, and talk about it slowly.

"Take you time," he said. Alice gulped. The wounds were still fresh, but she looked into the emerald eyes that were similar to her own, and began haltingly to speak. She watched as the moon waned and the darkness thickened, England's face never leaving hers. She had told him all of her memories of her the humans who had raised her, and was about to say thank you when she suddenly became aware of England's sleeping face. He was now on her bed, collapsed as he slept, his breathing even and deep as Alice stared at him

"Thank you…for everything." Alice whispered. She had thought she had dried away her tears, but she was wrong. Tears spilled from her eyes, and if she was less emotional, she would have recognized that her positions with England were now switched. "You…accepted me. Without any questions…without fear or disappointment. And even if you did," she said with a watery smile, "I know somehow you would still love me. That…is what love is. You…and America taught me that. I will never forget my parents, or what they did for me. But…" she whispered, her blond hair falling into her face, "It is time to let go, I think. I have…mourned them more than they have me…and I do know one thing." Alice pressed her face against England's, the short memories that they had running through her mind. Seeing her for the first time, his eyes locking with hers. The moment when he wanted to speak to her after his first lesson, laughing with her. The conversations they had, about history and her schooling, a small smile on their faces as the nation told her about the proud history of his country. Of how he had attempted to heal her for the first time, and when the nation had ran to her the Gryffindor common room, running still as she screamed in his arms. Healing her, whispering in French that he was sorry as he sobbed. Telling her that she was his daughter, the expression on his face as she ran away burning in her mind, and finally…saving her life, again, when she experienced the deepest and darkest despair in her life so far.

" _Je t'aime,"_ Alice whispered. She kissed the nation who loved her unconditionally on the forehead, tender and gentle, as she softly cried.

" _Je t'aime,"_ Alice whispered as she fell into the hazy unconsciousness of sleep. _"Je'taime…Maman."_

She did not know of France opening the door and smiling at the two of them before he closed the door and walked away.


	15. Chapter 14

_Chapter 15_

"How was your holiday, Alice?" Hermione asked as the young first year began to start on her breakfast. Harry looked at the girl, focusing on the blond as she began to sip her tea. _Tea?_ Harry thought with a start. _She's never had tea with her breakfast before. What happened during the holidays?_

"It was good," the girl simply stated. Harry noted of the vagueness of her tone, and inwardly frowned. He could see that the girl was slightly distracted, and he could see her gaze on Professor Kirkland, who was also sipping his tea. _No, not professor._ Harry reminded himself. _England._ It had almost seemed like a dream when the mysterious wizard revealed himself to be a nation, and that Alice Kirkland was his daughter. And the fact he had given birth to her. Ron had not said anything for a couple of minutes after the newly revealed nation had ordered them out of his office, his brown eyes so large and staring at Hermione had snapped at her what was wrong. Ron had suddenly howled with laughter, tears running down his cheeks as he choked to his friends to try to imagine the professor pregnant. Needlessly to say, after a couple of moments, the trio were breathless with laughter, causing very annoyed yells to come their way as they continued to laugh. Despite of the laughter though and Ron's joke, Harry knew of that the History of Magic professor had been female when he had given birth to Alice. The emerald-eyed wizard stared at the said girl, knowing of the terrible burden she must have. _Being the daughter of a nation…and of knowing that he is going to die._ Shortly after meeting again in the first week of January, Harry and his friends confronted Alice that they had overheard the entire conversation. The girl had listened, somehow unsurprised. She had then prepared to tell them all she knew…or at least part of it. The fifth years had been stunned to find that the History of Magic professor, of who they had come to respect and admire, was dying. _"Blimely…" Ron had stated as he ran his hand through his shock of red hair. "I guess…he'll be a real hero then." Harry had listened as Alice explained that England was going to die when his country was in great turmoil, when Voldermort would rise to complete power again. "Then…" she had stated as she ignored the shake Ron had at the sound of Voldermort's name, "I will…be the new England."_

 _"Alice." Hermione had sounded gentle and concerned as she stared at the blond-haired girl. "You don't have a lot of time with…your mother?" she prompted, and continued when Alice nodded. "Aren't you sad?" Alice had shaken her head._

 _"I…am, in the hardest truth, but I think that what I have to focus on is the time that I have with Mum right now," Alice had stated as the trio blinked at the term. "Everyone…including America, accepts that he is going to die."_

 _"Wait." Hermione had sounded like she was struggling to find words before Ron interrupted._

 _"There's more of them?" he asked incredulously as both of his friends stared at him from his untactful tone as Alice giggled._

 _"Yes," the small girl had said with a smile. Ron and Hermione listened to Alice's words with eyes as big as galleons as Harry listen curiously. "…Then Italy began whine there wasn't any pasta left and Germany had to help him calm down as America started to throw the ornaments down from the tree at Mum as he started laughing. Russia began to laugh too and started singing in Russian as Prussia and Spain suddenly appeared from one of the rooms and started fighting like pirates again," Alice had recounted with barely concealed laughter._

 _A hint of jealously came into Harry before he remembered of the sorrowful expression she had when she told them about how her human parents had screamed that she was a freak and that she had to leave the house and never come back. Harry remembered of how his situation had almost resulted in her own fate. For a brief moment, Harry thought about the other people he considered as his family, and darkened at the memory of how he had_ been _the snake when he had attacked Arthur Weasley._

 _"It's sounds like you had fun," Hermione had stated with a slight smile._

"Harry?" The messy-haired boy turned to find Hermione looking at him with concern. "Are you okay?" The young wizard inwardly shook his head, reminding himself that it was now spring and that the conversation he and the others had with Alice was over with.

"I'm fine, Hermione," Harry had stated. When the witch appeared unconvinced, Harry tightly smiled at her. "I'm just worried about the exams."

"I don't know," Ron said with a huge bite of toast. "You're not thinking about Cho again, are you?"

"No!" Harry cried indignantly. He briefly thought of their awful break-up. The sixth year Ravenclaw, although he was attracted to her, he had acknowledged later as the months passed that Cho had simply been too broken. His mind clouded with anger when he remembered of how the older witch had insulted Hermione, one of his best friends, because he had realized he was late meeting her in the Three Bromsticks. _Why is this still bothering me?_ Harry thought as the anger continued to simmer. _It was months ago. Get a grip!_ "I don't see anyone making comments of how you hang out with Emyr more often since holidays ended," Harry quipped as Ron turned scarlet.

"She's just…hard to get rid of!" Ron muttered to his toast. "I haven't counted the many times she had criticized me for my work and _everything_ else about me."

"That means she cares for you," Alice said the time Hermione stated, "Honestly Ron, your assignments do need work." Ron stared at the two females with shock as he pleaded for Harry to help. The dark-haired wizard shook his head, in no mood to hear Hermione and Ron argue.

"Okay," Ron said with a huff. "I will do some studying, and maybe I'll be able to pass."

"I'm sure you can," Hermione said more gently. Ron did not hear her, and the bushy-haired girl stared at him as his body disappeared with the other students.

"He'll come around," Harry whispered to her. He was surprised when Hermione looked at him curiously.

"Whatever do you mean, Harry? You seem…to imply something." She continued to stare at the young wizard as he stared at her in confusion.

 _Did I miss something?_ Harry thought as he shook his head. Saying their goodbyes to Alice, the two fifth years exited the Great Hall, where their first O.W.L. exam would start in a couple of hours.

Alice stared after her friends, wondering if the stare Hermione and Harry had shared had been what America had meant by _sexual tension_.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the world, America sneezed.

* * *

It was now midnight. Harry wearily dragged his feet up the stairs, grateful that this was his last O.W.L. exam. He had barely seen Alice during the time of his exams, focused on studying for later ones and resting when he could. He also had to remind Hermione to _relax._ Harry inwardly groaned, realizing too late that the stars he was seeing with his two eyes made no sense whatsoever. _I have to try,_ Harry said as he managed to scribble down some constellations. He thought he could figures start to move at corner of his eye, his stomach turning with dread.

Suddenly, there was pounding on the door.

"OPEN UP!" Harry almost gasped and dropped and his quill. He slowly turned the telescope towards Hagrid's hut, his heart in his throat. There, with his own two eyes, was the figure of the former Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Dolores Umbridge.

Harry's hands started to sweat, the liquid quickly seeping onto his palms. _How?_ he thought. _How…? There's no_ way _that toad could sneak into Hogwart's grounds! Hermione always said –_

"OPEN UP!" Harry heard several students gasp as they suddenly recognized the stout woman standing in front of Hagrid's hut. He heard Hermione take an intake a breath, and watched with his heart in his mouth as the door to Hagrid's door suddenly opened.

Harry cringed as he heard the coarse words he heard Umbridge used with Hagrid, thinking of him dumb enough to believe that she was still teaching at Hogwarts. Harry heard the examiner call out for ten minutes of time, but the fifth year lost complete focus when he saw Hagrid being ambushed by six figures. At that moment, Hagrid tried to shake them off when they tried to grab his legs, and shook them when they fell.

"GET HIM!" Umbridge roared as she aimed a stunning spell at the half-giant. Hagrid shook them off, undeterred as the spells continued to bounce off his back. Fang, shortly behind Hagrid, bellowed and aimed his sharp teeth at the perpetrators before falling unconscious from a stunning spell. Hagrid furiously turned, hoisting his dog on his back as he screamed that all of them were cowards.

"Oh my…" Hermione gasped as Hagrid continued to struggle. A scream clogged in her throat as Umbridge screamed _"Crucio!"_ and smiled as Hagrid collapsed on the ground and screamed. _What…?_ Harry thought dully as he watched Hagrid tried to stand and he was hit by two _Crucios_ by Umbridge and one of the wizards. _He's half-giant…so he shouldn't…_ Harry gritted his teeth as he continued to hear Hagrid's screams. No one was paying attention to the exams now. Even the examiner was staring in shock and saying that they shamed the wizarding world.

"DOLORES!"

Harry had never been so happy to hear that voice. He stared as the faint and barely visible figure of Professor Arthur Kirkland, also known as England, run to Hagrid with Professor McGonagall not far behind. Wordlessly, without a word, Umbridge's wand fell onto the ground, a few feet from her. Harry and all of the other students gasped. _How can he do that?_ Harry thought. _Not even Dumbledore cannot use his wand…_ Then suddenly Harry remembered of what the professor had told them. Wizards and witches had once been able to use magic without wands, but it had faded into history. _What if…?_ Harry thought with bated breath. _What if he can use spells without his wand?_ The dark-haired wizard had watched stunned as the professor and nation managed to defend and defeat one of the wizards on his own, wordlessly as he the wizard suddenly fell unconscious.

"This is…" Hermione whispered.

"This is so cool!" Someone whispered. "Professor Kirkland is awesome!"

Harry disagreed even as the secret nation pulled out his wand and defended Hagrid with Professor McGonagall from various spells. He watched with bated breath as the two professors managed to subdue two of the other wizards before focusing on the four remaining. Harry watched as the blond-haired nation suddenly withdrew his wand again and began to fight with his fists, catching the two wizards and McGonagall by surprise. The two wizards were quickly defeated, their blood splattered on the ground as the professor had overwhelmed them. _I think…that's hand-to-hand combat,_ Harry thought as he peered closer in his telescope. He heard about it when time when Dudley had threatened him. The young wizard watched as the professors silently conversed, their whispers subdued as it appeared that the enemy had dispersed. But Harry's mouth widened in horror at the sight of Dolores Umbridge, conscious again as she gripped her wand in her hand.

"PROFESSOR!" Harry bellowed.

He had no idea where the spells had come from. Perhaps the remaining wizards had managed to hide as the two professors were defeating the other two. All he knew was that three voices simultaneously bellowed,

 _"CRUCIO!"_

The spells had been aimed at Professor McGonagall, but her companion had pushed her body out of the way just as the spells collided.

Screams. Screams that Harry had never thought were possible. He stared at the young professor – nation – screamed as they rose into the air, making his breath stop and his blood curl at the sound. The screams continued, even as McGonagall shouted the nation's human name with desperation Harry was not aware she possessed, and continued to rise with volume and intensity as she was stunned. Harry could only imagine what the nation was feeling. He had felt one of the curses. It had felt as if his entire body was embedded with flaming knives, and he just wanted it to _stop, to please stop._ Harry vaguely heard students shouting and some crying as the History of Magic professor continued to scream, and Harry gripped his wand with his hand when the professor suddenly stopped and fell to the floor with a dull thud. His body was still, prone as Umbridge looked at him contemptuously as she stood in front of him. Harry stood, wanting to scream, when he suddenly gaped as a shaking hand suddenly grabbed Umbridge's robes.

"You're not…going anywhere," the nation whispered to her hoarsely as he shakily stood. Umbridge and everyone were staring at him in shock. _Most people would be unconscious from that amount of pain at the exact same time,_ Harry thought as continued to gap as other students suddenly shouted for someone to _do_ something. _Three at once,_ he thought. He could not hear what Professor Kirkland said next, only noting with growing horror at the sight of Umbridge's smile.

 _"STUPIFY!"_ The students' horror magnified when they saw the four wizards who had been stunned stood and shouted simultaneously. Harry watched, numb, as the spells collided in the center of the professor's chest. Pure shock framed against his paling face before the professor fell onto the ground, his eyes somehow staring at the professor stood in front of him.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to do this you," Umbridge whispered.

 _"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_ Students screamed as a blinding green light blinded them. Harry feeling physically sick as the light faded, his entire body numb as he saw the open eyes of England stare sightlessly up at the sky. _No…_ Harry thought desperately, pleads filling his mind as students sobbed and the examiner stood numb. _No…he can't be…_ His world swayed, and he saw Umbridge vaguely carry the nation's body away, seeing his sightless emerald eyes that could always seemed to think was he was thinking as they stared upward, dead. _You can't die!_ Harry inwardly roared as he heard students scream and sob. _You're…a nation…Alice said… Oh God, what about Alice…? Professor…you can't…!_

Harry had no idea he was crying until he covered his mouth with his hand to smother his screams.

* * *

An unknown wizard quietly arrived in the Gryffindor common room. He was tall with long flowing blond hair, and his mask covered his face as he moved into the unfamiliar territory. _If only she was sorted into Slytherin,_ the Death Eater thought as he murmured a spell with his wand that his master had taught him. He managed to not wake the sleeping pathetic heroes as he silently slipped into the girl's dormitory. _Almost there,_ he thought. The Death Eater smiled underneath his mask. She looked uncannily similar to the professor that his son had visibly complained about, with her blond hair and emerald eyes that were closed. _It is a good thing that her connection with him has been severed…otherwise…_ He pushed that thought away and ungraciously lifted the girl on his back. _No, not girl,_ he told himself. _She is a nation._

Lucius Malfoy smiled, thinking of how greatly the Dark Lord would reward him.

* * *

"I have come successful, my lord."

Umbridge was crouching down by her new lord's feet, unwilling and unable to look at him. For although Death Eaters had approached her not long after leaving Hogwarts, she had only been intrigued when she learned their plan involved a blond haired nation with emerald eyes. She had not known that the supposed History of Magic professor was in fact a nation, specifically England, as stated by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when he had explained to her his plans.

He had learned about such immortal creatures when he had been young, astonished to find an ancient text regarding the history of national personifications. It had not slipped his notice of when Umbridge had described England's interest in a human, a girl with blond hair and emerald eyes, who had healed miraculously after every detention she had assigned. He had insisted that the two were related, and had ordered a shaking Umbridge to obey him when he had detailed his plans. Allow her original plan to attack the stupid half-breed that the foolish Dumbledore kept as his pet, and use his tools, wizards under the Imperious Curse, to wound the nation enough so that he would not wake for a while. _"It is said that nations cannot be affected by our spells unless they are repeated multiple times as…well as the curses used at the exact time. Aim…for his chest….his heart….where it is…the weakest…similar to humans, and bring him to me. The Killing Curse…will make the darkness…infest inside, so he will not wake."_

 _"What do you plan to do, my lord?"_ Umbridge had whispered. She almost gasped in fear as the dark wizard smiled.

 _"Make…him see his daughter's death. It will be the first image he witnesses, and then…I will kill him before he pleads for me to takes his life, but not before…I learn…his secret to immortality."_


	16. Chapter 15

_Chapter 15_

Harry could not sleep despite the hours continuing to decrease as the morning waned. The dark-haired teen found that his mind was still bombarded with the images of Professor Kirkland – England, lying on the ground with his eyes open sightlessly. Harry had managed to calm himself down once his unprecedented tears had been shed. He saw Hermione and Ron at the corner of his eyes, tears spilling down Hermione's cheeks and Ron's white face echoing his own numbness as the examiner reappeared and stated quietly that the Headmaster had been informed about the situation. They were immediately to go to their House common rooms and stay there until further notice. Harry listlessly remembered of the blinding green light. Somehow, nothing had changed. Cedric had died before his eyes last summer, as had his parents who he had not known. There were no nightmares, but that brought no comfort, leaving Harry to his morose and lonely thoughts.

It was only when Hermione suddenly almost crashed into them when Harry and Ron were coming down the stairs that the situation had gotten worse. _"Alice is missing!"_ Harry's stomach had grown stone-cold, and a forbidden feeling shook inside him as he remembered that the two blonds were related – except England was dead. The other Gryffindors had come to be aware of that one of their own was missing, and the trio could not even hear themselves as various students whispered darkly and some, even those who had only seen the emerald-eyed Gryffindor had started to cry, particularly the younger students. Professor McGonagall had arrived and barked for them to silence. Harry noted of how the Transfiguration professor seemed anxious, her characteristic stern eyes dark with barely concealed worry.

"Professor, are you sure you should be standing?" Harry said before he could stop himself. The students who had seen with their own eyes what happened that night observed McGonagall's expression, remembering of how she been hit with a stunning spell. She had nodded to Harry and the other fifth years before speaking to the rest of her House. The witch had told them what Harry had already seen. Professor Arthur Kirkland was dead, killed by Dolores Umbridge, who had somehow been able to sneak onto Hogwart's grounds. "For unknown reasons, she took his body away," McGonagall had stated without masking the disdain in her voice. "As this occurred, it was reported that someone kidnapped Alice Kirkland, a first year Gryffindor. The other Head of the Houses are explaining the situation to your other classmates." The professor paused, and she touched her half-moon shaped glasses before continuing. "The headmaster will address Professor Kirkland's death and Miss Kirkland's disappearance at breakfast in the Great Hall." For a brief moment, Harry thought he saw a flicker of grief in the professor's eyes, before she turned and walked away from her stunned students.

* * *

"He's not dead, Harry." The dark-haired fifth year stared as his female friend, who was whispering quietly to him. Beside her, Ron was eating slowly, his dark eyes on the High Table. Harry also observed the High Table, and noted that England's brother, Professor Allistar Kirkland, was not touching his food and staring in the distance. _It must be terrible to know that your brother died and you could do nothing to help him,_ Harry thought. _I know that feeling._

The two wizards ignored Hermione for a moment before Ron hissed, "Are you mental? How can someone come back from the dead?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I don't know," she answered truthfully. "But…it could be possible, right? If what Alice said is true, then Professor Kirkland _should_ have lived over a thousand human lives."

"I don't know, Hermione." Ron stated, and Harry had to agree. His friend pointed his finger at a pair of crying Ravenclaw girls. "Maybe you just don't want to admit that you fancied the professor or whatever he's called." The red-head managed to block Hermione's aim as she flicked tea on his robes. _At least some things haven't changed,_ Harry thought as the two started to argue.

Later that night, Harry found it hard to sleep. He turned over on his side, staring at nothing with his blurry vision. History of Magic had been cancelled today, and Defense Against the Dark Arts was strangely quiet without the red-haired professor's sarcasm and joy at telling exceedingly embarrassing stories about his youngest brother. _What will happen to Alice now that England is gone? She's…much too young._ With that final thought, the Gryffindor fell asleep.

 _It was dark. Harry could not see much of anything. His footsteps echoed along the shadows, and Harry stopped suddenly when a hint of light appeared. There was a tall figure, dark clothed and the face hidden from view. There were three figures crouching down below the standing figure. Harry's heart stopped when he saw the familiar spider-like hand carry a wand in the pale hand. The teen could only watch as the figure suddenly cupped one of the figure's jaw, and Harry started when he saw the pale face of England locking eyes with Voldemort. "You did not bow to me," the dark wizard hissed._

" _Why should I?" Harry's emerald eyes widened at the sight of the smirk on the nation's face. "I…have faced more foul enemies than you,_ boy _." Voldemort's red eyes narrowed, and his grip tightened._

" _Who are you?" The fifth year audibly gasped when he recognized that voice. He slowly turned, and saw Sirius' gaunt face and a trickle of blood flowing from his forehead. The dark haired wizard stared at the nation in astonishment. "You're not part of the Order."_

 _Suddenly England laughed. It echoed throughout the shadows, and Harry's fear deepened as Voldemort came to press his pale and terrible face closer to England's._

" _I may be your captive," the nation snarled, "but I will never be your slave." Suddenly Voldemort's gaze turned to the smallest crouching figure. Horror gaped inside Harry as he recognized Alice. She had not been harmed, but he could see true terror in her eyes as Voldemort gazed at her. The dark wizard aimed his wand, and Harry shouted too late when he heard screams. It took him only a moment to realize when the darkness completely thinned where they were._

Harry woke up with a gasp. His breathing remained erratic as sweat soaked his forehead. The young wizard stared at the ceiling, his breathing slowly coming back as the images of his dream ran through his mind. _Alice and England…are captured by Voldemort._ His eyes squeezed shut at the memory of hearing Alice's screams. _It felt so real…and Sirius…_ Harry thought of his godfather, one of the few people he considered as his family. He remembered when they had first met, when the then-thirteen year old boy had wanted to kill him. _I have to save him,_ Harry thought as he remembered Sirius' barking laughter. _All of them…_

"Harry," Hermione said as soon as he told her his dream. "This could be a trap."

The wizard glared at her. "Are you saying you don't believe me?" he asked in a low voice.

"No, Harry. It's just…" Hermione bit her lip and stared at her dark-haired friend worriedly. "Remember of how Professor Snape taught you about Occlumency? What if…Voldemort put something in your mind that wasn't there before?"

"I know what I saw," Harry said hotly. Seeing Hermione's hurt expression as sudden guilt entered him, he said more calmly, "I saw them, Hermione. They were there, and he tortured Alice."

"I think we should go," Ron stated immediately. Lowering his voice, he said, "How hard can it be to enter the Ministry of Magic?"

For once Hermione was silent as she pondered. "If what you say _is_ true, then…Professor Kirkland is alive." Ron still looked skeptical as Hermione continued. "He is a nation after all, and –"

"Who's a nation?" The trio turned to find Emyr standing directly behind them. Ron and Harry gaped as they could see Ginny Weasley standing beside with distaste. Her hands were on her hips, and Harry watched nervously as whispers surrounded her as she stood in front of them. The three Gryffindors had been so involved in their conversation that they had not noticed the Slytherin girl. "Why are you talking about nations?" she whispered. Her gray eyes widened dangerously, and Ron rolled his eyes even as Harry forced himself not to flinch. "This better be why that bloody kid is missing, or –"

"Calm down, Arya." Harry looked in shock as Luna Lovegood, the Ravenclaw he had met on the train, touched Emyr's arm gently. "Shouting won't do any good, you know." The fourth year smiled and then spoke to the three Gryffindors. "We should probably have this conversation somewhere else," she added airily.

Emyr and the others listened intently as Harry explained with situation with Hermione and Ron correcting him for mistakes or adding information. They had managed to walk around the lake twice, and the six students stopped around the center as Harry finished.

Emyr raised an eyebrow. "Either you are a very good liar, Potter or –"

"He's not lying," stated Luna suddenly with conviction. "I knew Professor Kirkland was a nation all this time. And his brother too…"

"How did you know?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"There was something different about their eyes," Luna stated. "It was like they lived longer than most humans have."

"Are we going to help them or not?' Ginny asked immediately. Hermione shook her head and began to speak measuredly when Ginny opened her mouth to retort.

"We still don't know why Voldemort kidnaped Alice and Sirius," she said as most of the listeners flinched. "If he truly does know that he is nation, then this would be very bad indeed."

"Why?" asked Harry and Ron at the same time.

The bushy-brown haired girl sighed. "He probably kidnapped Alice to kill her." As her Gryffindor companions stared at her in shock, Hermione stared to explain with a faint tremor in her voice. "If…he manages to kill Alice, and then England dies…then what will happen to the nation?"

"We have to rescue her right away then," Harry immediately said. "We could go right now and –"

"Harry." Harry glowered at Hermione, noting the hesitance in her voice. She met his gaze. "You have this…saving-people-thing, and it needs to stop."

"Saving people thing?" Harry asked incredulously as Ron and Emyr tried to stifle their laughter. "What do you mean?" he suddenly roared, his anger and frustration getting the better of him as he stared at Hermione. "Wasn't _I_ the one who saved Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets, or –"

"Calm down, you rude laddie," a familiar voice suddenly said. Harry and the others turned. The ginger-haired professor sighed, staring at the wide-eyed student. "Remind me again why we are here," he snapped backwards.

"We are here to save _Angleterre, mon ami_." Harry stared as a man of roughly the same height as England's brother stood. He had shoulder length blond hair and blue eyes. He noted that the blond also had a few whiskers on his chin.

"Come on, Franny, _everyone_ knows that I'm the one who's going to save Iggy!" shouted a boisterous voice. Harry stared in shock as a taller young man – in his late teens – stood beside the other two. Harry didn't recognize the uniform he was wearing. He had light brown hair and wore glasses. A wide smile echoed widely across his face as the other two gave him exasperated looks.

"You must have forgotten, that _Angleterre_ is –" _Wait,_ Harry thought as he saw the others look at the three suspiciously.

"Oh, that's right!" The students flinched at the loudness of his voice. "We're rescuing Alice too!" Suddenly, he became to laugh. The laughter became louder with each passing moment, and Harry forced himself not to lose his patience.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Emyr suddenly spat. She pointed at the three of them. "Why are speaking bloody French, and why is _he_ ," she pointed with a rude gesture at the tall light brown-haired man. "Acting like such a fool?"

"Ah." Now the blond turned, and Harry noted of a fond look he gave Emyr. "You belong to _Angleterre_ 's old House." He gave her a wink. "Good, good."

"What's an _Angleterre?_ " Ron asked, Harry almost laughing of how badly he pronounced the word. As the blond gasped and covered his face with his hands in mock despair, Emyr glared at Ron.

"You imbecile!" she hissed, and then stared at the rest of the students with contempt. " _Angleterre_ is French for England! They're probably nations!"

"Hell yeah we are!" Hermione glared at nation closest to her left. "I am the great white, red, and blue United States of America, and these old dudes are France and Scotland!"

"Why are you here?" Harry suddenly asked. His face was marred with suspicion, and he almost stepped back when he saw a flare of anger appear on England's brother's – Scotland's face.

"Why do you have to ask, you ignorant citizen of my _beloved_ wee brother? We're here to rescue him from Voldemort, of course!"

There was a sudden pause.

"Wait…you said that England was in Slytherin," Ron said nervously. Harry and Ginny also appeared guarded as Hermione and Emyr rolled their eyes. "It's sounds as if you're mates."

"Are Iggy's people really this stupid?" America asked suddenly with a glance at France as a burger appeared spontaneously in his hand. He started to take a ravenous bite, so fast Harry almost felt sick. As the two nations started to banter back and forth, Scotland stared at the students and spoke to them in a low voice.

"We were all in Slytherin at one point," he said with nonchalance as Ron and Harry gaped. "What can I say?" he asked with a shrug. "It was the second century. We all had ambition to become powerful nations."

"Hey, I wasn't in that slimy House! I was in the House where the heroes are!" America shouted, laughing as France looked at him in annoyance.

"Besides this useless American," Scotland stated as he looked briefly into Harry's eyes, "we will help you rescue England and Alice. Nations can't die, but they are affected by some of your spells…especially if together at once."

"So he's not dead?" Luna asked in a wary voice. Scotland nodded.

"I'm not useless!" America cried, and Harry and the others ignored him as he stared at France. The nation appeared to be calm, his face contemplative, but Harry recognized the tightness in his hand as he gripped his wand and the storm in his eyes. "I can practice magic!"

"You haven't practiced magic since 1692," France retorted as the humans blanched. "Italy can more than you can, but," he added with a faint smile, "you have to make up to Alice, right _mon cher_?"

"What happened?" Harry asked. America looked at him for a moment, a sad small smile on his face.

"I was…a bit of an ass to her," he stated slowly. His blue eyes clouded for a moment, before he gestured to the humans. "Now all of you will back me up!" Emyr rolled her eyes and Hermione huffed as the others looked half-annoyed and exasperated. France and Scotland followed reluctantly behind the nations, and Harry and followed. Emyr stopped short for a moment.

"I'm coming as well." The Gryffindors looked at Emyr in shock as Luna simply looked at her curiously. "I-it's not as if I care for you," the dark-haired witch said with a frown. "You will probably get yourselves killed, especially Weasely," she added with a small smirk, "And I have to rescue this kid so my sister doesn't kill me. That's all."

 _Well, as long as she rescues Alice,_ Harry thought with a shrug.

* * *

"…lice! Alice!"

Alice opened her eyes. Her mind vaguely wondered where she was as she looked over across from her. Identical emerald eyes stared down at her.

"…Mum?" Alice whispered. For some reason England looked rather pale. "What are you doing here?"

"We were attacked, you and I." Alice stared uncomprehending as her mother sighed, moving his hands through his hair. "I had multiple spells that rendered me unconscious, even the Killing Curse," he added with a shudder. England put a hand around her shoulder when she looked at him anxiously. "Spells can only work against nations if they collide with a nation's body, multiple times at once. Combined with the Killing Curse, it would only cause me to make me unconscious for a couple of hours."

"Where are we?" Alice whispered. She had no idea what the globes were on the shelves, a faint white wisp to them.

"The Department of Mysteries," her mother stated without hesitation. "Now Alice." She turned towards him, a grave expression on his face. "I want you to run. Don't think about me," he added when Alice's eyes widened. "I want you to –"

Alice stiffened, the entire room suddenly becoming condensed with heavy and dark magic. England was now looking at something, _someone_ , without fear. Alice turned, grasping the nation's arm in fear as she watched a tall figure wearing black robes walked toward them. His nose was nonexistent, looking almost like a snake, and his hands appeared like large spiders. His head was bald, and his eyes were red.

"I thought you would not awaken for some time." _Voldemort,_ Alice immediately thought as her teeth clenched. Her mother continued to look without fear.

"I am stronger than those ancient texts say," England stated as he stared at the dark wizard in contempt. "I suppose…this is how you found out about my existence?"

"Not at all," Voldemort said with a cackle. Alice's hair on her neck stood as she heard the extreme highness of his voice and of the way he stared in contempt at the nation. "I heard it from one of my loyal spies…who also works at Hogwarts."

The nation appeared to be undeterred as Voldemort continued to speak. "Indeed, you are strong. Stronger than I anticipated." He paused. Suddenly, he took out his wand and pointed it to Alice's direction. "However, you are _weak_." Fury tore from his mouth. "Your…daughter…appears to be wiser, to fear me." Slowly, he began to approach them, and the emerald-eyed girl shuddered when his red eyes bored into her own. England stood, his face barely concealing his rage.

"Do not touch her," he snarled. Alice swallowed as Voldemort began to laugh, it sound echoing in the room. England continued to stand, his eyes burning with fury as he stared at the dark wizard in front of him. "You will be dead before you do."

"Is this coming from the same nation who fell to his knees twenty years ago?" Voldemort asked, his face mocking as he stared at English nation. "You will not use your full power against me, _England,_ for…" Before Alice and her mother could blink, Voldemort cupped Alice's face with his hand and stroked his hands over her face, the nails slightly digging into her flesh. "I will kill her. The future…" Alice stilled as one of the fingernails dug deeper in her cheek. "This pathetic mudblood future that you embrace…will be gone with her." Alice was too frozen to see her mother's expression and inwardly gasped as Voldemort suddenly let her go, causing her to fall onto the ground.

"I know you are dying."


	17. Chapter 16

_Chapter 16_

It was supposed to be an easy task. They were supposed to save Harry's godfather Sirius and England – or _Angleterre_ by the perverted French nation who unfortunately fulfilled any stereotype the Ron had of the French and started to really wonder if he liked Fleur – and Alice, their fellow Gryffindor. Where had it gone all wrong? Ron had suddenly been separated from Harry and Hermione and the other nations, and found himself with Emyr, Ginny, and Luna. _Thank Merlin we don't have America with us._ The redhead had the unfortunate situation of having to ride a threstral with the American nation, who talked so loud that Ron thought he had gone deaf by the time they arrived in the Ministry of Magic. Ron's stomach had plummeted when the group had realized that Sirius was not here, nor England and Alice. Harry's indignant cries became deaf to Ron's ears when they were suddenly surrounded by Death Eaters.

He had no idea how it had happened so quickly. The fifth year Gryffindor turned his head to hear Harry scream Hermione's name, fear growing inside him at the sound of the desperation and horror in his best mate's voice, starting to run towards them, when Ron suddenly found himself flying backwards and colliding with Ginny. Ron blearily looked up, seeing Emry's black hair and hissing at the Death Eater who stood in front of her. Ron couldn't move. His hand was constricted around his wand, and Ginny lay with blood leaking from her forehead. He saw Ginny get up, hissing at her broken ankle, and attempted an aim at the Death Eater before getting hit by a stray stunning spell. It was a battle. There were flashes of light and spells uttered that Ron knew were beyond his year – and yet Emyr shouted them, her dark eyes more alive than Ron had seen them in the months he had gotten to grudgingly know her, and for a moment, it was almost like she was dancing…and more beautiful than Ron had ever thought her to be.

 _Imagine that,_ the youngest male Weasley thought to himself, _me admiring a Slytherin._ He watched Emyr as she blocked a spell, a familiar smirk on her face despite the grave expression she had. _She really is…_ Ron inwardly gasped and felt his heart stop when he heard Emyr scream, her body seizing and coming to a stop, landing hard on the floor.

"I thought…" she rasped, her gray eyes meeting Ron's, boring into his brown as he was eerily still, "I thought…I could dodge that. What a _bloody_ fool…I am." Her pale face started to ashen, and her grip on her wand tightened, hard enough to make it break.

"Emyr!" Ron was shocked by the desperation and cursed himself when he could still not move. His desperate eyes glued onto her face, as the Death Eater looked on with a laugh. "Emyr!" _Why is it…_ Ron thought as his heart clenched as Emyr's breathing slowed, _that I can only say her name?_ "Emyr, don't die," he suddenly pleaded. His face paled at the sudden smile that appeared on her face.

"Too late for that, Weasley." The slightly mocking tone he had come to know did not soothe him. "Shit…" she whispered as her hand suddenly laxed and her wand rolled away, looking at him with her eyes never leaving him. "My sister…she's going to bloody kill me." A rasp of laughter came from her before the young witch fell silent for a moment. Her breathing shallower by the moment.

"Why the _bloody_ hell?!" Ron suddenly screamed, desperate to free himself from the prison. "Why'd you save us? You know well how I thought about _you_!" The Death Eater suddenly moved forward, his mask hiding the glee he held inside. "So why?!" Ron's strangled cry, with barely concealed raw pain, was met with a faint smile from Emyr.

"I'm glad I placed the binding spell on your arse…otherwise…I would never hear the end of it, would I?" Ron's heart froze in his throat at the sight of Emyr closing her eyes. "It's because…I'm a Slytherin, dumbass…" Her dark hair framed her face as her body lied prone on the floor, her face as pale as Ron's own as he desperately _tried to move._

"And to think I was starting to like you…"

He couldn't understand where it had gone wrong. They were supposed to be enemies, just like they had been – in his eyes at least – for the past four and-a-half years they had been at Hogwarts. They were supposed to annoy each other and hate each other, as Emyr and Ron did during their first meeting early this year. Ron was supposed to dislike _every_ Slytherin. And yet, here he was, feeling as if his air had been cut off from him as he continued to numbly stare at Emyr's still body. How was it that he felt more despair, more agony than he had felt when his father had been attacked? How? A ghastly cry escaped from him, unintelligible words tearing from his mouth as tears – tears! – seeped from his eyes as the redhead stared at the body of Arya Emyr before him.

 _I…was liking you too,_ Ron thought numbly as he stared at the dark-haired beauty. _And I think I probably could have…_ He didn't see the wand being raised, or the fact that now that…she was dead, he was able to move. Ron stood, his breathing erratic as he shook. _Liked you even more than that._ A dauntless scream emerged from him as he started to run, running towards the murderer as he thought of the girl who had meant a lot to him. For a moment, it seemed that he didn't hear anything, only seeing the bright green light.

" _Avada Kedava!"_

He could only feel himself floating…floating…

* * *

" _Sirius!"_ Harry screamed. _"Sirius!"_ He desperately tried to move forward, his mind numb as he looked at the veil where Sirius had fallen into, desperation falling into his entire mind as he was held by Professor Lupin. _"Sirius!"_

"Harry…he's gone," Lupin whispered. The words didn't reach Harry's ears. The young teenage boy found himself screaming, the name of his godfather never leaving his lips, finally wrenching himself free from Lupin and running towards the veil. He stopped and stared – not noticing the battles around him, from the order or the nations battling the Death Eaters, or the still form of Hermione guarded by some ancient magic that one of the nations had erected. His scarred emerald eyes could only see the faint wisps of the veil, hearing the whispers, his hand trembling and deaf to Lupin's cries as a sob suddenly choked from him.

"Is the baby Potter all upset?" Harry turned, his stunned gazing turning to rage as he stared at the tall witch before him. "Is he upset that I killed someone important to him?" she continued to ask in a babyish tone, laughter abruptly erupting from her in waves as he suddenly found himself chasing her.

He was aware of running, his wand pointing at her back, hearing her laughter in his ears. The plan walls and the door on the left was all that he could see as Harry stood, panting as Bellatrix Lestrange stood in front of him. She pointed her wand at him, and the young wizard dodged, barely missing a _Crucio_ when a sudden inflammatory rage and grief rose inside him.

" _CRUCIO!"_ he roared. Harry found the curse to fail, with the dark witch laughing at him.

"You have to better than that, baby boy." She smiled, and her tone became serious as she looked at him. "You have to _actually_ want to _hurt_ a person, to make the scream and beg for mercy." She cackled, raising her wand. "Not that you actually _could_ , boy."

"Really?" Harry rasped. He was aware of the sudden itch in his hands as he held his hand, the rage and despair rising inside him as he thought of Sirius – the two of them laughing, their embrace that they had during the terrible summer, and Sirius telling him about his family. Sirius…all the memories suddenly piled in his memory, and Harry felt the urge to scream. He felt the urge to…to…

" _CRUCIO!"_

He saw only red as he heard Lestrange's screams. He felt only the blood boil inside him, and Harry breathed as anger and grief continued to rise, causing him to scream. _What…?_ Harry thought dully as he saw Lestrange on the floor, screaming with her back arching. _What am I doing…?_ The spell suddenly ended, and Harry found himself pouring sweat and gasping for breath as Lestrange slowly stood.

Her body was slightly shaking. "Good," she whispered. "Good. Very good." She appeared to look at him with a newfound respect as he the teenage wizard stood panting before her. "Did you know, boy, that the Dark Lord first preformed that same curse when he was around your age?" She sickenly smiled, and Harry found horror race through him at the realization of what he had done come through to him. "Although…the Dark Lord's reason was _far_ –"

"Potter."

Harry froze and Lestrange looked back, her face stunned as both of them recognized the person standing in front of her.

"You…" she whispered. Harry's mind shuddered to a halt when she backed away. "You…the Dark Lord said –"

"Voldemort is battling Dumbledore at the moment," England drawled. Harry found himself staring at the nation, seeing his gaze never reach his own and the grave expression on his face. His emerald eyes flashed, and Harry's heart started to thud when he saw the professor raise his hand. "Would you like to know what it is like to fight a nation, Bellatrix Lestrange?" His voice was measured but the disgust and hatred in his voice was discreetly heard. Harry saw Lestrange pale, back away for a moment with her eyes wide with barely constrained fear before she suddenly raised her wand and smiled.

" _ALICE!"_ England screamed, and both watched with horror as the girl – her wand raised and wearing her Gryffindor uniform – was hit with Lestrange's spell. The screams were high enough that Harry was compelled to cover his ears. Her eyes were impossibly wide, her hands clenched and the screams sounding bone-deep as Lestrange continued to laugh even as the spell ended shortly after. Harry found that Alice was miraculously standing, although barely conscious and her eyes dull and her face pale as she stumbled with her mouth gaping open as she –

Harry suddenly felt himself change. Pain. He clutched his head, inwardly trying to stop having the _pain_ drilling through his skull. He didn't see Lestrange's body fall, England raising his hand without murmuring a spell before the witch collapsed with her eyes open and a smile on her face, as Harry's vision suddenly faded. The young wizard shouted, images appearing in his mind. _A young boy, with dark raven hair and a handsome face alone as the other children played around him…the same boy, screaming with rage as he started punching his tormentor…laughing at the sound of the screams…_

 _Kill her…_ a voice suddenly whispered.

 _Kill her…_

Harry wanted to scream for himself to stop, but his body wouldn't listen. His hand found Alice's throat, her shocked eyes burning into his own as he squeezed. His mind screamed, telling him it was wrong, it was wrong, it needed to _stop_ as spittle started to gather against Alice's lips, her face pale and gasping. Harry felt his hands tighten. Emerald eyes bored into his own. _Why…?_ they seemed to be asking. _Stop!_ The wizard screamed. Suddenly Harry felt his body collide with the wall, hard. His back hurt, spasms of pain running through him as the voice faded from his mind and the pain receded. His dull eyes found Alice in England's arms, exhaustion and aguish the only reality as the blond nation crouched down to him.

"England…" Harry whispered thickly. Sharp and painful tears were appearing in his eyes. "England…" _I…_ the boy thought as he stared at the deep sadness in the nation's eyes as he held his daughter in his arms. _I…_

Before he could say another word, Harry Potter collapsed into unconsciousness.

* * *

Ron was dead. The words refused to find meaning. Ron was dead, as with Emyr. As Harry sat on Hermione's bed as she read _The_ _Dailey Prophet_ , the numbness creating a hole inside him as the survivors refused to meet his gaze. _Dead…_ The emerald-eyed boy thought. _Dead…_ His breath hitched, and Harry vaguely felt Hermione drop the newspaper and hold his hand. Ron had been found beside the body of Emyr, the wand Ron had been so proud of in his hand, killed by the Killing Curse. The Order had apparently stood in silence, shock and stunned by the very young dead. Harry had come around when he suddenly heard Ginny's screams and sorrow.

The redhead girl had turned to him, rage and hatred in her eyes as she told Harry that she would never forgive him. She would never forgive him for doing this to her. When Luna had attempted to calm her down, there was disappointment in her eyes that Harry hadn't thought possible. Harry hadn't flinched, numb that he was, as Ginny turned her gaze towards him and told him that it was his fault that Ron had died. Hermione had tried to rise, her expression burning with fury before Luna had softly replied that she should be grateful that she was alive, and Ron had sacrificed himself to protect her. Ginny had stared at her former best friend, and had stomped away. Harry hadn't heard from her since, and Luna's mournful eyes echoed in his mind.

Alice had not been seen. The Order had been dumbfounded when they had found the first year Gryffindor lying unconscious beside Harry, wondering why she had been kidnapped. They had dismissed the fact that three nations had arrived in the Ministry of Magic and had battled Death Eaters while attempting to save their own. There were no _nations_ to be seen when the Order arrived, and the wizards assumed that it had been Harry who had killed Bellatrix Lestrange, not England, and Harry had found that only the people in this room – including Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall when confronted with the fact that one of her students had apparently killed a Death Eater – believed him. As such, Harry was found to be shunned and feared by his classmates when he sullenly walked the halls as a week past. No one could meet his eyes, and Harry found that even his professors – who had known him since he was a first year – talked to him as if he was diseased, and Professor Snape had snidely replied that the only reason why he wasn't in Azkaban was because he was a great celebrity and supposedly the downfall of the Dark Lord.

Harry's mind focused also on the fact of the conversation he had with Dumbledore. There was a prophecy made before he was born about him. That he would defeat Voldemort and that, the reason why the old headmaster hadn't told him this before when he was eleven years old, was that he wanted to protect him. _"I loved you too much, Harry." He didn't want me to suffer,_ Harry thought as he walked along the lake, his eyes barely registering the scenery and several students celebrating the end of exams. _It reminds me of Alice and of her relationship with England._

There were times when Harry thought that perhaps the meeting of England was a dream. He had not seen Alice since he had almost killed her, and wouldn't blame her if she never spoke to him again. But he found her watching him by the lake, and turned when she called for him.

* * *

"Harry!" Alice hesitantly removed herself from the tree she was hiding behind, and allowed herself to look at the teen. His face was pale and gaunt, his eyes glassy with grief and sorrow. _Harry…_ she thought. _I'm such a coward,_ Alice thought as her hands lied limply at her sides. The first year had not woken until a day had passed since the battle in the Ministry of Magic. She had been told that Harry had been meeting with Dumbledore, and the girl had nodded. Inwardly, fear spread through Alice as she heard Harry's name. She remembered of how he had tried to kill her, spittle forming on her mouth as she tried desperately to breathe. Her lungs were aching, and her body screamed from whatever curse the Death Eater had aimed at her. She could see nothing recognizable in his eyes. Then, she heard something crack and fell unconscious into someone's arms.

Mum had explained that Harry had been overtaken by Voldemort when that had happened. The nation had appeared on her bed shortly after she had awoken and left the Hospital Wing. He tried to explain to her, gently, but the irrational fear plagued her mind. It had plagued her mind even as her mother tried to tell her that Voldemort would not take over him again, and that she was safe. When England noted of Alice's eyes blurring and the whimpers escaping from her throat, he had held her. The nation had held her until she had cried until she couldn't cry no more and stopped shaking.

" _As a nation," the Englishman had whispered into her ear as he combed her hair with his thin hands, "you will have to experience hardships, Alice. This…is one of your first tastes of fear, and although you were born in an age not at war, there will be wars. Hurt and pain and grief will follow you, more than humans." She had looked into his eyes and saw the firmness and the solemn expression. "That is why…you must not let fear stop you, for it will be insignificant to the future fears you will face. Go to Harry, and talk to him…and moment by moment, the fear will not appear again."_

"Harry…" Alice whispered. "I'm sorry that I didn't talk to you before." She hung her head shamefully. '"I was afraid," she whispered as she wearily looked into his dull eyes. "Even though, I know that you didn't do it, I was still afraid that you would hurt me again."

"You don't hate me?" Harry asked incredulously. He almost sounded desperate, pleading as he stared at her with a raw expression.

"No," Alice answered honestly. "I also know that you didn't kill that Death Eater, no matter what people say. I –"

"Are you mental?" Harry asked with dismay. "Everyone is going to outcast you if you stay by my side!" She smiled at him, and she could see the guilt flicker across his expression.

"I'm used to it," she whispered, briefly thinking about her days in primary school. "The only friends I had were you and Emyr…" A choke escaped from her, tears starting to appear from her eyes at the young witch's name, the wound far too fresh. _Emyr…_

"She died like a Gryffindor," Harry whispered as grief shook in his voice. Alice wouldn't respond. "How is…her sister?" he asked hesitantly.

"Evangeline doesn't hate me," Alice whispered as she stared at the broken gaze that matched her own. "Unlike…Ginny does to you," she rasped quietly as Harry visibly winced. "Their parents…are proud of their daughter, even if their grief numbs them."

There was a heavy silence.

"So will you come back?"

Alice looked at Harry in surprise. Her emerald eyes glanced at him, and could see that he genuinely questioning her.

"Of course I will," she stated. "Mum will murder me if I don't come back." A small smirk appeared on her face at the thought.

"So the nations were there," Harry said with a gasp. "I thought I perhaps had imagined it."

"The nations cannot not allow anyone to know their secret," Alice stated, hoping that Harry would understand. "They took a chance with me, but exposing it more would be dangerous."

The teenage wizard nodded. He began to turn away before Alice stopped him.

"I wanted to give you this," she stated as she placed the small cloth in his palm. "I originally wanted to give this to Mum before the Christmas holidays, but…I think you need it more."

Alice could see Harry look at it closely. It was barely bigger than his palm, with a white background with a rose in the center. It had three shapes of leaves colored green with red petals with another two green leaves. Above was the white and the yellow center. Seeing his emerald green eyes bewildered, Alice explained.

"This rose was used by the Tudor royal family in the fourteenths and fifteenth centuries, and was a nation symbol of our country. The rose was combined from the symbols of two noble families that were at war with one another during the War of the Roses."

"And…?" Harry asked.

Alice smiled, her eyes crinkling as she stared at the young man who meant so much to the world he was in. "It symbolizes unity and togetherness, Harry."

Suddenly, the young man smiled back. It was a weak smile, barely there, but it appeared in her sight nonetheless. "Thank you," he whispered. He stared the item in his hands with awe before looking again at her. "It gives me hope that…the darkness will soon end."

 _Yours or the upcoming war?_ Alice thought. But she only whispered, "It will, Harry. It will."

* * *

To be continued in _The Girl With Burning Emerald Eyes..._


End file.
